


Daredevils

by ZairaA



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, First Time, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1910 and The Daily Mirror, one of Englands biggest newspapers, is hosting a spectacular event: The First International Air Race from London to Paris!  </p><p>Among the aviation pioneers fighting to win are the young Lord Arthur Pendragon, son of the man sponsering the race, and Merlin Emrys, a poor but enthusiastic sod from Arizona. The two men could not be more different, and they clash immediately, but they have more in common than they realise. One thing is the passion for flying. The other is a passion of a different nature all together.</p><p>Before they can see who's the better man though, they have to overcome misuderstandings, sabotage, assault and their own pride. And Morgana is not really helping - even if she might disagree.</p><p>- With amazing art by crimsonswirls - NEW: More art added!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daredevils

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the 6th take of Reel Merlin. My Movie Prompt was [Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines; Or, How I Flew from London to Paris in 25 Hours 11 Minutes](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Those_Magnificent_Men_in_their_Flying_Machines) a 1965 movie featuring James Fox, Stuart Whitman and Sarah Miles. It's been a favourite of mine since childhood. It's not necessary to know the movie. Actually I changed so much of the plot, it might be better if you don't. ;)
> 
> Massive thanks of epic proportions go to [crimsonswirls](archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonswirls) who plucked these characters from my mind and made the most gorgeous art imaginable. Once more she's the better part of an awesome collaboration and didn't even blink when I changed my prompt four weeks before the deadline. The art is imbedded, but you can also find it here:  ART Masterpost And there is more to come!! Another huge Thank You goes to [phoenixacid](archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixacide) who jumped in the fray when I was ripping my hair out over not having any musical inspiration and made a gorgeous mix for the fic! You can find it here: [Run to a Space on the Horizon](http://phoenixacid.livejournal.com/344088.html) Please go and leave them all the love because they are amazing and deserve it!
> 
> Buckets of thank you and kudos over the heads of my amazing beta readers [bloodsongs](archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsongs) who gave awesome advice throughout and even overcame severe internet trouble to help me get this done, and [typewritertip](archiveofourown.org/users/typewritertip) who heard my pleas for help four days before posting and did an amazingly quick SpaG check. THANK YOU SO MUCH!!

__

_~ The Pendragons  ~_

 

Arthur caught sight of her just when he dipped his aircraft down in a perfect angle over the stretch of bumpy field he had chosen as his landing site, and for a moment he couldn't believe his eyes. Morgana had done it again. His sister was driving up on the small, rattling motorbike, waving at Arthur happily, as if their father had not expressly forbidden her to ride that thing. Arthur shook his head, allowing himself a chuckle to go along with his long-suffering sigh, and directed the Excalibur a little to the left, passing over his sister's head.

Morgana ducked down on the motorbike on instinct, even though there had still been a good few yards between her and the aircraft's wheels, and Arthur could feel the glare she was sending at his back. Of course she didn't slow down in the slightest.

Arthur touched down after a few dozen yards more and let the aircraft roll out on the field, seeing one of the boys already rushing forward to take her off his hands - and probably ask him with eager curiosity whether his changes had brought any improvements.

''Oh Arthur, that looked really good!'' Morgana called as Arthur jumped down from his seat, dropping her bike and rushing forward to hug him. ''Magnificent!''

Arthur hugged her back, looking down at the bright smile with fond amusement. Her, dark, wind-swept hair was hanging in her face, and she was - of course - wearing trousers again. The pullover which completed the outfit looked distinctly like one of his own.

''Okay, what do you want, Morgana?'' he asked, not sure whether he would regret the question.

''Take me up there!''

Her voice was a command, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement as she pointed up towards the sky.

Arthur sighed, pushing her away a little to take a look at the Excalibur. There was something not quite right with the aircraft's elevator, he was sure of it.

''You know I can't,'' he said distractedly. ''Father has forbidden it.''

Morgana's face turned into a scowl. ''Father has forbidden it. Pfft. If I refrained from doing all the things he forbids, I would have no fun at all. Oh come on, Arthur. He'd never know!''

Arthur raised his eyebrows at her incredulously. ''Of course he would. For one thing, someone would see us, and for the other...'' And now he actually grinned at her. ''You'd be much too excited not to tell about it later. Thank you, but no. I have no intentions to get caught in that cross-fire.''

''You're such a bore, Arthur!'' his sister complained, but she linked her arm with his as they walked over to the car he had parked at the side of the field – a sure sign that she wasn't really mad at him. It was, after all, a recurring topic of discussion between them, and Arthur was sure Morgana would try again another day.

''Is he back then?'' Arthur asked, taking off his gloves and dropping them on the leather upholstery of the open car.

''When I went out, he had just come back from ambushing the editorial meeting this morning.''

''Hmmm.'' Arthur bit his lip thoughtfully. His father owned one of the biggest newspapers in the whole of England, The Daily Mirror, but he normally didn't involve himself much with the day to day running of it. He was more like an emperor who descended down upon his underlings now and then to make sure they held the proper deference and respect for their sovereign. ''Was he in a good mood?''

''I'd say so. He was actually smiling and you know how often that happens. I almost made a note of it in the calendar.'' She stopped and looked at him suspiciously. ''Why?''

''I'd like to present an idea to him at tea this afternoon. And you know how he is.''

''Oh my god, are you finally going to ask him about the race? Oh, Arthur, that would be so amazing! You can count on me. I'll have your back!''

Arthur snorted. ''Thanks, but subtlety is not exactly your forte.''

''Ha. I can be very subtle,'' Morgana said waspishly before she turned back towards the fallen motorbike. ''Race you back home?''

Arthur laughed but jumped in the car. He knew he had no chance; Morgana's bike was much quicker than the car. But he didn't mind. He was happy to let his sister have this small victory at least.

When they reached the grounds of Pendragon Manor, Arthur stopped the car and waited for Morgana to hide the motorbike in a little shed close to the gate. It didn't take all that long before she pushed the door open and strode out, now dressed in pale purple silk and her wild hair hidden under a hat that vaguely reminded him of a soup bowl. Before the door to the shed fell closed again though, Arthur saw the poster she had stuck to its inside. “Let Women Vote” it said in big bold letters. Arthur shook his head.

''You know he'll find out sooner or later, don't you?'' he asked, sliding over in the seat to make room for her.

''Of course, Arthur.'' Morgana rolled her eyes at him. Then she smiled and, leaning close, whispered in his ear, ''That's half the fun!''

 

 

 

 ~*~ _  
_

Tea with his father was always an incredibly stiff and formal affair. Morgana had once told him that he tended to look like he had swallowed a broomstick and couldn't quite figure how to get it back out. But today Lord Uther Pendragon was indeed in a good mood, having been out to sow fear in the hearts of his subjects this morning.

''So, Arthur,'' he said after tea had been served in the parlour, and an appropriate amount of small talk had been exchanged. ''What is it that you want to talk to me about?''

Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at Morgana suspiciously. She was reclining on one of the chintz covered settees, delicately balancing her tea cup. ''How did you know I wanted to talk to you about something, father?''

''You have that look on your face.'' Uther stirred his tea and smiled down at it in thought before he looked up at Arthur and said, ''Your mother had that same expression.''

''Oh.'' Arthur ducked his head. It was a rare moment that his father would even mention his mother in passing, but on the other hand Arthur knew this was an opportunity that would not come twice. ''Well, I wanted to speak to you about an idea of mine. An idea that could advance the cause of British aviation.''

''I didn't know it needed advancing.''

''Oh, yes,'' Arthur said, allowing to let a little of his enthusiasm show. ''There has been great progress, but the problem with aviation is that still too many good ideas are spread out over too many aircrafts. If we could bring all these different types from all over the world together, it would be a great opportunity to learn from each other.''

''From all over the world?'' Uther asked sceptically.

''It should be possible, father. The French and the Americans are actually far ahead of us.''

''Really? The Americans?'' Uther spat the last word like it was something nasty.

''And it's our own damn fault!'' Arthur groused. ''Do you realise that until four years ago no Englishman had flown?''

''Hmm...'' Uther looked contemplative now.

Time for the final stroke.

''Britannia might rule the seas, father, but it doesn't rule the sky. At least not yet.''

Uther stood up, walking over to the mantle over which the Pendragon coat of arms was hung. ''We bloody well should rule the skies!'' he said with patriotic fever in his voice.

''Oh yes,'' Arthur said earnestly, and Morgana hid her giggle behind her hand. Arthur shot her a quick glare. ''But there might be a way how we could establish our _superiority_ , as well as further the exchange of ideas.''

Uther straightened as he turned back towards him. ''What is your suggestion, Arthur?''

''A race. From London to Paris. Crossing the Channel alone would be an incredible feat. And if the prize money is high enough, it would lure pilots from all over the world to England.''

''I assume you want me to set up that prize money,'' Uther said with a hint of sarcasm.

''Yes. That's what I wanted to ask you. I think the Daily Mirror should sponsor this event. Just think of what kind of publicity the paper would get from it.''

Uther rubbed a hand over his mouth. ''A race between the two most important capitals in the world. To establish that Britain does indeed not only rule the waves but intends in the future to rule the sky as well.'' He paused and studied Arthur, who stood straight and met his father's gaze head on. His father had no time for cowards. ''I assume that you would want to take part in it as well.''

''Of course. I am the best pilot this country has.''

Uther nodded. ''Well, then. See that you win. Ten thousand pounds isn't something I would want to part with so easily.''

Arthur bit down on his triumphant shout, but couldn't help the broad smile that spread out over his face. ''Yes, father.''

 

_~ Somewhere in Arizona ~_

Well, shit. That could have gone better. Climbing down from his slightly demolished aircraft, Merlin took off his neckerchief to rub the dust from his face and maybe also hide his guilty expression. His best friend came up to where the Kilgharrah lay with a broken wing on the shrubbery, scowling at Merlin and then starting to check the tattered tarpaulin and the broken rungs, groaning and grumbling in despair. Merlin leaned against the side of his machine and watched Will bustle about, kicking at one thing and pushing at another. He waited, already knowing what Will was going to say.

''Why do you have to keep doing that?''

Merlin sighed. ''It's not as if I was doing it on purpose. It's a refining process, you know that.''

''You didn't pay attention, that's what you did!'' Will looked at him accusingly. ''Just admit it. You were flying over the field, and you were looking everywhere but where you were going because you kept ogling those boys bringing in the cattle! And then what, the tree just materialised in front of you, I suppose?''

Merlin looked over to the opposite side of the paddock where one of the cowboys was stepping up to the trough, pulling off his shirt.

''Oh my god!'' Will shoved Merlin in the side. ''Stop staring! I swear you'll end up with a beating one day and it's all you'll deserve!''

Merlin just grinned unrepentantly. ''Weren't we talking about the Kilgharrah?''

''About what's _left_ of the Kilgharrah you mean! Look at it! How do you think we're gonna fix this?'' Will shook his head. ''Maybe we should just let it be. Go back to a real job instead.''

But Merlin didn't really listen to the rant that followed, stepping up to his aircraft and gently letting his fingers glide along the tarp covering the Kilgharrah's wings.

''You don't understand it, Will,'' he said, shaking his head. ''The magic there is in flying. It's because you won't come up with me. There's a freedom up there-''

He stopped, looking up at the bright blue Arizona sky - the endlessness of it, without a limit. When he was up there with the Kilgharrah, there was nothing that could stop him, nothing that could hurt him or shun him. Up there he could be completely himself.

''I don't have a problem with you going up there, it's the various ways you find to come down again that bother me,'' Will grumbled.

Merlin sighed. He knew Will had a point. They had done a few shows to earn some cash, mostly at rodeos, but keeping the Kilgharrah in shape and making it _better_ did cost a lot of money. And it wasn't like it was getting them anywhere.

He bent down to tug a crumbled piece of paper from one of the aircraft's landing skates, and was just about to throw it away when a word caught his attention, written in tall black letters over the whole top of the tattered page: **Air Race**. Hastily, Merlin flattened the paper against the Kilgharrah's wing, reading with a wildly beating heart.

''Will,'' he breathed. ''Come here, you've got to see this!''

''What?'' Will stalked over with a frown creasing his brow. ''That the paper? What did you do now tha- Holy Jesus! _Fifty thousand dollars!?_ ''

Will ripped the paper away from Merlin, who tried to grab it back but then settled for reading over Will's shoulder, pointing out the details to him. ''It's an air race! From London to Paris. We've got to take part in that! Just imagine! London. Paris. _Fifty thousand dollars_!''

''Yeah...'' Will whispered. Then he looked at the aircraft. ''Only... how will we get there? It's on the other damn side of the ocean!''

But Merlin was not in the mood to worry about details. He just knew that this was what he had been waiting for. An opportunity to show that he was more than a poor sod from a godforsaken piece of land in the middle of nowhere. That flying was more than just a stupid dream. This race was his destiny, and he would take part in it at whatever the cost.

''It says 'for more information, read page six.','' Will's voice filtered into Merlin's daydreams. ''Where's page six?''

Merlin looked at the crumpled paper and then at the vast landscape stretching out to the distant hills before him in the afternoon sun.

''Somewhere out there I guess.''

 

_~ A Game On The Lawn ~_

Sundays at Pendragon Manor were calm and lazy and – when Uther expressed his wish for his children to join him – mostly boring. It was a wonderful day for flying, the air brisk but warm, a few tufts of white clouds and hardly a breeze stirring the trees. But Arthur was stuck on the lawn in his Sunday best because of the rare desire of Lord Uther Pendragon to have a game of croquet after tea.

Arthur could only deduce that his father must indeed be in an excellent mood, and that the increase in circulation of the Daily Mirror was probably contributed to that. The news of the air race sponsored by his father's newspaper had spread like wildfire and there were pilots registering almost every day. Arthur couldn't help but feel giddy about it, even if he had to clamp down on that feeling as long as he was still down on the ground and in his father's company.

Just then Geoffrey came down the steps from the terrace with a small silver plate on which perched a rather crumbled looking letter.

''Ah,'' Uther said with more animation than he showed most days, picking up the envelope. ''There is another one. From... Phoenix.''

''That's in Arizona,'' Arthur said surprised, putting his mallet down.

''Arizona? An American?'' His father pursed his lips in displeasure. Lord Uther Pendragon had still not forgiven the defectors. He studied the letter with a frown, but didn't say anything else.

Stepping closer, Arthur tried to catch a look at the name of the applicant. “For someone to come all that way he has to either be very rich, or very confident,'' he said curiously.

''Since he's an American he's probably both.'' Morgana said, rising her eyebrows at him.

''Sir,'' Geoffrey spoke up before Arthur could come up with a retort. ''There's also Lord Valiant waiting in the parlour.''

''Well, show him down here, Geoffrey,'' Uther said impatiently, folding up the letter and handing it back to the butler.

Arthur's face hardened. Valiant was the younger brother of one of Uther's acquaintances. He was older than Arthur by seven years, a fact that he constantly liked to rub into Arthur's face, ever since they had attended the same prestigious boarding school for a year when Arthur was ten and Valiant was seventeen respectively.

He also thought himself a pilot, but Arthur didn't hold much respect for his kind. Valiant didn't tend to his own aircraft; he had people who did that for him. He bought machines right and left but he had no idea what was necessary to hold one in the air. Where Arthur felt an overwhelming passion, a need to be close to the sky and breathe the cool air, Valiant simply enjoyed the admiration his unusual and risky past time brought him.

Coming down the stairs now, Valiant shot Arthur a smug grin. ''Arthur, I almost didn't recognize you with your face so free of oil. It's a rather shocking sight.''

Arthur just nodded stiffly. ''Lord Valiant. As I am sure you realise a game of croquet does not involve a great amount of machinery. I'm a little baffled by your surprise.''

Valiant narrowed his eyes in a frown, and Uther was pretty quick to admonish his son. ''Arthur. Don't forget your manners.''

''Of course not, father.''

''Don't worry, Lord Pendragon. I'm sure we instilled their importance in him when we were at Eton.'' Valiant's smile had a hint of cruelty, but Arthur didn't flinch. ''Though I remember that our young Lord Pendragon needed reminding of the proper respect shown to one's betters every now and then.''

Gritting his teeth, Arthur forced himself to show no reaction. There was no use to go up against Valiant now - his father was a firm believer in the rank that came by age. At twenty, Arthur didn't hold much leverage in the eyes of his father. Though that might change when Arthur showed him his worth by winning the air race. His father would _have_ to acknowledge that.

''Now, what brings you here, Lord Valiant?'' Uther asked, putting his mallet to the side and indicating for the other man to follow him a little further over the lawn. While this might have given them an illusion of privacy, they still remained within hearing distance.

Arthur tried not to make it too obvious that he was listening in on the conversation, and was glad when Morgana stepped up to him.

''What does that idiot want here?'' his sister hissed quietly.

Arthur fiddled with the clasp of his glove. ''Probably toadying to father and making eyes at you,'' he said with barely held back anger.

''Urgh.'' Morgana made a very unladylike face. ''He's such a sleaze. I hope father doesn't honestly contemplate-''

''No.'' Arthur shook his head. ''Not yet.'' He took her hand and looked at her seriously. ''And not ever, if I got any say in this.''

Morgana squeezed his hand and gave him a fleeting kiss on the cheek. ''Thank you,'' she whispered, and Arthur wanted to say something else to reassure her, but that was when he heard Valiant deliver his reason for calling upon the Pendragons.

''I will of course participate in this race - an excellent idea of yours, my Lord, if I may say so. And I, of course, plan to win a glorious victory for England. But,'' and here Valiant softened his voice, ''are you sure it is a good idea for Arthur to participate? He's rather young and inexperienced after all.''

Arthur nearly couldn't hold his tongue as fury rushed through his veins. Who was that bastard calling inexperienced? Arthur had been flying longer than Valiant and had a lot more flying hours on his back, never mind that he actually knew what mechanisms kept an aircraft up in the sky.

''Hm,'' Uther seemed to contemplate what Valiant had said. ''It's certainly true that he's quite young and has some foolish ideas sometimes. But he's a Pendragon, Lord Valiant, and Pendragons don't back down.''

Valiant's laugh sounded fake, but he inclined his head and said. ''If you are any indication, Sir, then that's most certainly true.''

Arthur simply couldn't take the man's bootlicking any longer, and went over to excuse himself to accompany Morgana for a walk in the gardens. He wanted to punch Valiant when he eyed Morgana like she was a tasty steak.

''I'm sorry you're already leaving, Miss Morgana. I would have loved to enjoy your beautiful company a little longer.''

Morgana's smile was frozen on her face. ''I'm sorry, Lord Valiant. I'm not feeling too well. But I wish you 'bonne chance' for the race.''

Valiant took Morgana's hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. ''I don't intend to leave such a thing to chance, Milady.''

''Lord Valiant,'' Arthur snapped with a sharp nod, and then dragged Morgana away and down a garden path.

''Don't let him get to you, Arthur,'' his sister said with a hint of warning in her voice as soon as they were out of sight. ''You can show him his place by winning.''

''You seem to be very confident that I will.''

He felt a lot more self-conscious about it than he liked to admit.

''You're the best pilot in this country, Arthur. Maybe in the whole of Europe. Of course I have confidence in you!''

Arthur stopped and looked down at Morgana suspiciously.

''No!'' He told her a moment later, exasperation making him smile. ''I will still not take you up for a flight.''

''Damn!'' Morgana grumbled, pulling her arm out of his and stomping down towards the pond ahead of him.

 

_~ The Bicycle ~_

 

Finding a way to Britain had pretty much cost Merlin and Will every last favour and every last shilling they owned, and then a few they didn't. But they had made it; they had finally arrived at Brookley Airfield, the place where Merlin would make his dreams reality.

''Wow, look at that!'' he exclaimed, pointing up at a small aircraft that passed over their heads.

The old Buick rumbled along the barracks that held dozens of different flying machines – more than Merlin had ever seen before. The Kilgharrah had been dismantled for their journey across the Atlantic, packed in a huge crate that was now strapped down on their transporter.

''Yeah,'' Will said with a lot less enthusiasm. ''And all of those you've got to beat.''

Merlin rolled his eyes at his best friend, nearly missing a girl in an incredibly fancy and impractical dress riding a bicycle on the path ahead of them. Merlin swerved to the left, causing the buick to hit one of the deep potholes, and it plummeted through it with all of the racket a nearly disintegrating car could manage.

The girl startled, casting a look behind her, and – not seeing where she was going - promptly toppled over when she drove the bicycle right of the road and into the field. Crashing down, her skirt got tangled in the pedals and the bike fell on top of her.

''Take over for me!'' Merlin said, hopping down from the car before Will had even gotten his hands on the wheel. The fall had not looked bad, but while Merlin might not be one of those fine gentlemen in their stiff suits and polished shoes, his Ma had taught him manners, and he quickly ran over to see whether the girl had hurt herself.

''Are you alright?'' he asked, lifting the bicycle off her legs and holding out his hand to help her up.

''Yes, of course,'' the girl said with a stiff little smile. ''Thank you.''

Her skirt was still tangled in the chain and pedals, and Merlin started to turn them to get it out of there.

''No, no! It's the other way!'' The girl grabbed at the skirt, trying to push his hands away.

''No, it's this way,'' Merlin assured her, frowning down at the impossible skirt, trying to get it free. She kept pulling. And while the bicycle didn't budge, her skirt did, leaving her in her bloomers as she stumbled backwards.

''Look what you've done!'' she shrieked, staring at him with a horrified expression.

Merlin, having finally untangled the skirt now that she had stopped pulling on it, gaped at her, taken aback. ''What _I_ 've done?''

She huffed. ''Haven't you ever seen legs before?'' she asked, grabbing for her skirt.

''Of course I have,'' Merlin said, aware that there really was no need to be defensive about it but still unable to keep his voice from going in that direction. ''Lots of them.''

''Morgana!''

Merlin turned around, still holding the bicycle, and saw a man striding over from one of the barracks. If Merlin's body had refused the proper reaction to the sight of a pair of shapely legs, clad in nothing but a pair of silky, calf-length bloomers, it had no problem whatsoever now.

The man was gorgeous: similar in height to Merlin, but broader in the shoulders and chest, with a ruffled mop of golden, sun-kissed hair and a strong chin. He was wearing overalls, and there was motor oil smeared on his jaw as well as on his hands, which he wiped on a piece of cloth. With all this, he still managed to hold himself like a Lord, looking down at Merlin along his aristocratic nose.

''May I ask what's going on here?'' he asked with haughtily raised eyebrows, obviously unimpressed by Merlin's whole person.

''I was just helping the lady,'' Merlin tried to explain, bristling a little under the man's gaze.

''Out of her clothes?''

''What?'' Merlin recognised the familiar heat creeping up his face. ''No! The lady took a bit of a tumble-''

If possible the eyebrows rose even higher. Then, the man turned to the girl. The very beautiful girl. Merlin's heart sank, and why it should do so he had no idea. It wasn't like it made any difference whether the posh, blond ass was having his eyes on this girl or another.

''Are you quite alright, Morgana?'' the man asked.

''I'm _fine,_ Arthur,'' the girl - Morgana – said. ''If you would be so kind now to help me with my skirt?''

''Of course.''

Arthur reached out for the garment only to pull his still oil smeared hands back a second later. ''Uhm...'' He looked at Merlin uncertainly. ''Would you be-?''

''Sure. Of course.'' Merlin nodded, and tried not to show how flustered he was, especially when Arthur was giving him a frown that quickly turned into a glare. ''Here, let me help you.''

Gingerly, Merlin buttoned up the skirt at Morgana's back, his fingers feeling stiff and clumsy under Arthur's scrutiny and the glower that became darker by the second.

''I didn't catch your name,'' Arthur said after Merlin was done, piercing him with steely blue eyes and putting an arm around Morgana - even though she tried to push him away.

Merlin snorted. The guy was putting it on a bit thick and Merlin had no time for pompous jerks like this one, who thought they were something better. After all, Merlin had only tried to help the girl. It wasn't like he had any intentions to get between Arthur and her - or, well, at least not in the way that he seemed to think.

''That might be because I haven't given it to you, My Lord Asshat,'' Merlin said with an eye-roll.

Arthur blinked, obviously stunned, although Merlin thought he'd seen the corner of his mouth twitch before his face turned back to its arrogant expression.

''You can't talk to me like that.''

''Really? And why's that?'' Merlin asked, tilting his head. He was starting to get pissed off now, for sure.

''Maybe because I'm Lord Pendragon's son?'' Arthur raised his eyebrows meaningfully, but – unfortunately – whatever that meaning was, it was lost to Merlin.

He shrugged. ''Should that tell me something?''

''I don't know.'' Arthur's grin was equal parts smug and amused. ''Are you here to participate in the air race he's hosting by any chance?''

It was like a bucket of iced water had just been upended over his head. Of course, Merlin thought, you had to go and put your foot in your mouth. ''Your father is the one organising the race?'' he asked, eyeing Arthur uncertainly.

''Well the Daily Mirror does – which he owns. So he pretty much decides about everything that concerns this event. When you'll be able to do practise flights, where you'll be able to work on your aircraft, where you sleep and what you eat.''

Merlin looked at him dubiously. ''Yeah?''

''Of course. So you'd better watch out whom you call an _asshat,_ Mr. Emrys.''

Merlin stared at the smug bastard in surprise. ''What? I thought- how do you know my name?''

''There really aren't that many pilots from the States.'' Arthur smirked at him before he took Morgana's bicycle from his hands. Turning away from Merlin, he started to lead Morgana back towards the barracks, throwing a dismissive, ''I was taking an educated guess,'' over his shoulder.

''Well, shit,'' Merlin cursed, watching them go. This was _not_ how he had envisioned this adventure to start.

''Woohee,'' Will's voice suddenly came from behind his shoulder, letting out a whistle. ''What a beauty!''

Merlin looked back at him and then followed his gaze to where Arthur Pendragon strode over the field like he owned it. He swallowed, and tried very hard not to notice how the overalls smoothed over Arthur's arse with every step he took.

''Yeah,'' Merlin mumbled, unable to tear his eyes away. ''Stunning, really.''

Will scoffed. ''Not as if you would appreciate it. Well come on, we've been assigned a barrack where we can put our stuff.''

Merlin followed Will further down the road, forcing himself to not look back at the two beautiful people who probably made an even more sickeningly beautiful couple.

~*~

Morgana pulled out of his grasp, and Arthur nearly stumbled from the force of it when she pushed him away.

''Arthur, damn it, you're hurting me,'' Morgana hissed. ''What the bloody hell has gotten into you?''

An excellent question, Arthur had to concede, though not one he was prepared to answer.

''Why were you talking to him?'' he growled back at her. ''I know you think yourself above such rules, but you can't just go and talk to some fellow like that. A man you haven't been formally introduced to, a foreigner – do you _want_ father to have a heart attack?''

''I didn't _talk_ to him! He helped me up. He was actually trying to be a gentleman, if maybe a clumsy one, before you came and started a pissing contest.''

''I- what? I did not so such thing! I was protecting your honour-''

''Why, thank you, dear brother. But my honour was hardly threatened. Though how you treated that poor man, threatening him and lording over him, that was truly despicable.''

''He was being impudent and extremely disrespectful,'' Arthur snapped.

''Well, so were you!''

Arthur balled his fists and stomped past her to where the Excalibur was waiting for him to finish her oil change. He didn't like to be chastised, least of all by his sister, and certainly not when he had the worrisome feeling that she might be right.

''Father was looking for you just now,'' he said without turning back to her. ''You should probably go find him, before he comes and asks why you are running around on the airfield unattended.''

Arthur could hear her sharp intake of breath, and knew that he had betrayed her with his words. But he couldn't talk to Morgana right now. There were too many strange thoughts and even stranger emotions crowding his mind and eating at his heart. He was confused, and he felt hot and too constricted in his skin and clothes. He didn't understand why that rude, American bumpkin had riled him up so much. Arthur closed his eyes and conceded that was a lie. But – again – not something he wanted to think about now.

At that moment Arthur longed for nothing more than to just pull the Excalibur out of the shed, start the engine and soar up there, escaping into the blue of a limitless sky.

Since he was in the middle of making adjustments though, his aircraft was not ready for take off, and all Arthur could do to reign in his frustration and the bothersome ideas he didn't allow his brain to form, was to dig in. He buried himself in the machine and its parts until he was covered in grease and his mind became structured again – certainly not trying to replay the strange features of an insolent loudmouth Arthur had no business getting acquainted with.

 

_~ At The Airfield Café ~_

 

Despite the worry Arthur Pendragon's words had managed to fuel in Merlin, he and Will had settled in quickly at the Brookley Airfield. They were used to living with little comforts, having been on the road most of their adult lives, and Merlin still felt like a kid in a candy store every time he caught sight of yet another new contraption taking flight. There were so many aircrafts, so many ideas – good and bad – it was like Christmas had come early that year.

Will had taken a liking to a girl that worked at the small bakery in town, though, and so Merlin's evenings had become increasingly lonelier. Most days it didn't bother him too much; he had the Kilgharrah to keep him company and provide him with distraction, even if their conversations were depressingly one-sided. But tonight, when he had just been on his way to the airfield's little office to hand in a photograph every pilot was obliged to provide for the Daily Mirror, the inviting glow from the windows of the small airfield café had lured him. He had searched his pockets and scraped up a few spare coins to buy himself a meal.

The café was packed with pilots and staff, a dozen different languages buzzing in the air, and Merlin fought his way through the crowd until he reached the single empty table in the corner. He pulled the picture out of his shirt pocket, afraid to crease it. It showed Merlin in front of the Kilgharrah, and was pretty much the one picture that had ever been taken of him.

Merlin ordered the only thing left on the menu, something called bangers and mash, not caring what it was as long as it was food and warm. He'd just picked up his fork to dig in when someone cleared his throat next to him. Looking up, Merlin recognized the girl from the bicycle incident a few days ago – Morgana.

''I'm sorry sir, would it be all right for me to sit here. All the other seats are taken, I'm afraid.''

Merlin swapped up the picture he had placed on the table, leaning it against the wall next to his plate and gesturing for Morgana to take a seat. ''Of course. Please, sit down.''

''Thank you.''

Morgana sat down, looking a bit uncomfortable at first and craning her neck as if she was looking for someone. Then her eyes caught on the photograph.

''Oh,'' she said, her face suddenly brimming with enthusiasm. ''Is this your flying machine?''

Merlin nodded. ''Yeah. It's the Kilgharrah.''

Morgana's hand reached out towards the picture, touching it almost reverently. ''It's beautiful!'' she said with a little sigh. ''Is that a Farham design?''

''No, Ma'am,'' Merlin said, surprised she even knew that name. ''It's a Curtiss.''

''Is that one of those that can take up passengers?'' Morgana asked, completely engrossed now in the picture and the topic.

Merlin smiled. If he could understand one thing, it was enthusiasm for everything related to aviation. ''It is,'' Merlin confirmed eagerly. ''I've taken lots of people up with me. Well, at home, obviously, in Arizona. Now I'm concentrating on advancing the machine and winning the race of course.''

Morgana's smile was bright and excited. ''Would you take _me_ up maybe, one of these days?''

''Sure. If you want to. I don't see any reason why not.'' When she clutched her chest, he added a little warily, ''You _have_ flown before, haven't you?''

''Of course! Lot's of times. I simply love it!''

Merlin nodded happily. ''Yeah, there's just nothing better than leaving the world behind and just going up there.''

''Have you flown long?''

''Since I was sixteen. And I never wanted to do anything else after that.''

A shadow fell over him then, and a voice that was all too familiar – even though he had only heard it once – said, ''Morgana. I've brought you your tea.''

Merlin dragged his eyes up to see Lord Arthur Pendragon, looking all pristine and upper-class in his white collared shirt, cravat and tweed jacket. His hair was once more stupidly shiny and his blue eyes were decidedly unimpressed. Well, it really wasn't Merlin's fault this time. Morgana had asked to sit down at his table; it would have been very rude to deny her. If Arthur had a problem with it, he should tell that to his fiancée or whatever she was.

''Arthur,'' Morgana said startled, as if his presence was a surprise – which it clearly couldn't be. ''Why don't you sit down?''

Arthur scowled but pulled out the third chair, sitting down between her and Merlin. ''Mr. Emrys,'' he acknowledged Merlin's presence with an arrogant tilt of his chin.

'' _Lord_ Pendragon,'' Merlin retorted sarcastically, which made the man glare again. Merlin had no idea why he enjoyed riling him up so much.

After a moment of awkward silence, Arthur said casually, ''I've seen a few of your practice flights.''

Merlin looked up in surprise – and, really, the idea of Arthur watching him shouldn't make him feel as if he'd swallowed butterflies. ''Have you now?'' he asked, not about to admit that he had taken a look at the flight schedule to see when Arthur's times were slotted. He had been able to watch almost every time the blond man had taken off.

''You're flying a Curtiss, don't you?'' Arthur continued as if Merlin had not spoken. ''Aren't you afraid it will be too slow to compete with the smaller and faster machines in the race?''

Merlin frowned. He knew Arthur had a point, but he didn't like to admit that. He was already thinking up a few solutions for that problem. But he said, ''Curtiss made it to sixty miles per hour at Dominguez last year with a similar machine.''

Arthur scoffed. ''He was aided by the wind from what I've heard,'' he said dismissively. ''I hope you don't bank on the wind carrying you all the way across the Channel and on to Paris.''

''Well, at least the control of the Kilgharrah's machine doesn't depend on the action of the ailerons so much.''

Arthur rolled his eyes. ''Yeah, the Wright's had some good ideas, but that won't do in a race. I don't think that kind of machine will stand a chance.''

''Let me guess,'' Merlin said mockingly. ''It's your design that's best equipped to win.''

Arthur actually smiled. ''It's the monoplanes that'll win this race, mark my words. Have you seen Gwaine Dubois with his Blériot?''

Merlin had to admit that dashing Frenchman had caught his eye, and not only because of the speed of his aircraft. Not that he was about to tell Arthur that. He shrugged. ''Ah well, I think I have still a few ideas up my sleeve.''

Arthur narrowed his eyes. He was fully turned towards Merlin now, the girl he was courting apparently forgotten. ''You're trying to induce more pressure on the engine, aren't you? Will you use a scoop for that?''

Merlin scowled a little. That was indeed what he'd been planning. So apparently Arthur wasn't only good-looking and posh, he was also enthusiastic about aviation and actually understood a lot about flying machines. Merlin was just about to open his mouth for a retort when Morgana set down her cup on the saucer with a clink.

''Arthur, we really should be going now. It's getting late.''

''Yes. Of course. You're right.'' Arthur seemed to almost have to shake himself out of a daze, and it was as if he forcefully put back the haughty mask when he stood up and looked down at Merlin with a sneer. ''Well, good luck with that, Mr. Emrys. I hope for your sake that your engine won't end up blowing in your face.''

Merlin smiled with all his teeth. ''Oh, don't you worry, _My Lord_. I love to live dangerously.''

The sharp intake of breath and the faint blush on Arthur's cheeks was the best reward Merlin could have hoped for.

 

_~ The Runaway Plane ~_

 

It didn't even take a day for Merlin's words to come and bite him in the arse.

Since the office had been closed when Merlin finally had made his way over there last night, he had to wait until after lunch today to try again. He didn't mind much, and it definitely had been worth it. He didn't know what it was really that fascinated him about the younger Lord Pendragon. Well, apart from the obvious, which was that he looked like Merlin's fantasies had taken shape and acquired an attitude to go with it. But it had also felt great to talk shop with another pilot, someone who was knowledgeable if opinionated – and maybe that just made it all the better. Merlin had never felt attracted to the docile types.

Crossing the field on his way back to the barracks with a spring in his step, Merlin was pulled out of his daydreams by the sight of an elegant motorcar driving up and stopping right next to a pristine looking flying machine. The aircraft had just been rolled out of its hangar, and it gleamed in the afternoon light like a shiny new toy. Merlin would have made a bet that it had never spent a single rough minute in the sky – if it had been up there at all.

The driver of the motorcar, a guy in a uniform and peaked cap, got out and rushed around to the passenger door, opening it with a deep bow. Merlin watched as a burly man with a sharply cut black beard and fine clothes climbed out. He made his way straight to the aircraft and waved at his driver to give him a leg up.

The machine was started with the propeller, but – like all flying machines – it needed a counterbalance to keep the tail on the ground. The three men seemed to struggle with it though. The pilot realised it as well, and his imperious eyes found Merlin immediately.

''Hey, you! Boy!''

Merlin gave the man a questioning look.

''Come here and give my chaps a hand,'' the man ordered impatiently, turning back to the steering wheel.

Merlin complied. He blamed his mother and her lectures about being polite and obliging. He ran up to the slowly moving aircraft and added his weight to its tail section.

''Shouldn't he get further out on the field for take off?'' Merlin asked in the direction of the others, but the driver just shrugged.

The plane gained speed rapidly, and the men let go. So did Merlin - only he got tugged forward sharply, stumbling and catching himself against the side of the plane, running by now to keep up with it. He tried to get free but apparently his jacket had caught itself at one of the gays, the speed too high already to do much about it.

''Slow down, I'm caught!''

The man looked back at him then, but didn't reduce the acceleration. ''Let go!'' he yelled, waving his arm as if he was trying to shoo away a fly.

''I can't!'' Merlin shouted. And then, ''Look where you're going!''

There was a piece of fence ahead. A fence which he would have been able to bypass easily enough, had he just kept his eyes up front and reduced his speed a little. Instead the man jerked the machine around, causing the tail to swerve and hit the fence, half of the rudder breaking off and the debris catching Merlin in the face.

Next thing Merlin knew, he was being dragged through the dirt, hanging half under the aircraft and trying to hold on to one of the sprouts. Clumps of earth and stones flew up from where the broken tail scraped through the field. He heard the crunching sound of the pilot trying to hit the brakes but they seemed stuck because nothing happened. Casting a look over his shoulder, Merlin saw the man climb out of his seat.

''What-?''

And then the man jumped off, rolling over the field and vanishing from sight as the machine tore ahead without its pilot now. As far as Merlin could see they were aiming for some empty barracks on the far side of the field. He cursed, and tried to drag himself further up on the tail, so that he might get himself free that way, but to no avail.

A moment later, he heard the rattling sound of a motorbike and, sure enough, looking to the side, he saw someone drive towards him across the field. The driver steered the bike next to the tail of the aircraft, which was still jolting and swerving, so it wasn't an easy task. When the man reached out with one hand, trying to catch hold of the sprouts, Merlin realised it was Arthur.

''What're you doing?'' he yelled.

Arthur looked down, shaken for a moment off his concentration and grabbing at nothing when the motorbike jumped over the uneven ground.

''Saving your sorry hide!''

With a determined face, he steered closer again, kicking up the speed until he nearly rammed the plane, and then he simply jumped. For a moment it looked like he might fall, but he managed to drag himself on top of the tail section, looking down at Merlin who was hanging below him.

''I'll cut you off,'' Arthur said, pulling out a knife, and placing it between his teeth.

Merlin, clinging to the wooden sprouts as if his life depended on it – which it probably did – stared up at him wide-eyed.

Lying on his belly, Arthur grabbed at the clasp of Merlin's jacket, where it had got caught in the gays, with one hand. With the other he took hold of the knife.

''Try to roll to the side, okay?'' he told Merlin, who made a face because, yes, that might be a good idea, but he would have to be really quick so that he wouldn't get run over by what was left of the tail. Still, he gave Arthur a sharp nod, signalling that he had understood.

The blade cut through the material of his jacket, and suddenly the pull was gone. Merlin briefly closed his eyes. Then he let go, trying to push himself sideways.

He rolled over the damp earth until he came to a stop on his belly, and looked up in time to see Arthur jump. The runaway aircraft went further for another few dozen yards and then crashed right into a barrack, the whole structure collapsing on top of it. For a moment Merlin could only stare open-mouthed at what could easily have been the end of him. Then he scrambled up on his feet and ran forward to where Arthur was just pushing himself upright.

''Hey, you okay?'' Merlin asked breathlessly, holding out his hand to help the other man up.

''Yeah,'' Arthur said somewhat dazedly, shaking his head and rubbing his dirty palms on his trousers.

''That was a close shave! Thank you. I wouldn't have fancied getting buried under all that shit.'' Merlin nodded at the pile of rubble that was all that was left of the barrack and the flying machine.

Arthur glared back towards the other side of the field. ''I can't believe he just jumped and left you hanging there.''

''He couldn't stop.''

''He could still steer though. It's his aircraft and the whole thing was his fault in the first place.''

Merlin nodded. There was no way around it. ''Well, he'll be out of the race because of it,'' he said. To Merlin, that was more than enough punishment.

Arthur turned around to him with a frown. ''What makes you say that?''

Merlin looked at him dubiously, and then nodded towards the wreckage. ''Don't think he'll be able to salvage much of that.''

Arthur snorted. ''No, I don't reckon either. But that won't stop Valiant. He'll just buy himself another flying machine.''

''Oh.'' Merlin frowned. ''So he's another one of you fancy rich types?''

Suddenly Arthur's face became hard as stone. ''I hope you don't lump me together with that bastard,'' he said with a snarl. ''I might be a rich man's son, but I am nothing like Valiant.''

And then he stomped off, leaving Merlin standing there. Merlin sighed. Somehow he had once again managed to put his foot in his mouth. It seemed to be aiming there whenever he was around Arthur Pendragon.

''Arthur, wait!'' Merlin called, running after him.

Arthur didn't stop, but he slowed down a little.

''I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you,'' Merlin said when he had caught up. ''It's obvious that you're not like him.'' He grinned. ''For one thing, from what I've seen, you've got a _slightly_ better grasp on your flying machine.'' Arthur sent him another glare at that, and Merlin sobered up quickly. ''And for the other... you might just have saved my life there.''

When Arthur just stomped ahead, Merlin grabbed him by the sleeve.

''What?'' Arthur asked with a frown.

Merlin just held his hand out, looking at the blond man expectantly. ''Thank you.''

Finally, there was a small smile in the corner of Arthur's mouth, and he took Merlin's offered hand to shake it.

''You're welcome,'' he said. Only to add a second later, ''Honestly, who manages to hook himself up on a gay? Are you sure you should fly an aircraft if you're that clumsy?''

It was said with a grin though, and Merlin got the feeling that insults were Arthur's default reaction whenever someone managed to make him pull the stick from his arse.

''You can ask me that again when you hand over the prize money,'' Merlin retorted with an insolent grin.

Arthur scoffed. ''As if... You'll probably manage to drown yourself in the Channel.''

''You wish!'' Merlin shoved Arthur in the side.

Arthur looked at him a little surprised, but when Merlin just kept grinning, Arthur shoved him back. And then they ran, laughing, back towards the barracks.

''Come on, I'll buy you a coffee,'' Merlin said when they had reached them and Arthur looked at him uncertainly. ''As a thank you.''

Arthur raised his eyebrows. ''So your life is worth a coffee, is that what you're saying?''

''Shut up.''

Arthur grinned at him lopsidedly. ''Well, then Mr. Emrys, lead the way.''

Later, after coffee, stories and more insults, Merlin was just about to say goodbye to Arthur in front of his own barrack when he heard a posh voice coming from behind him.

''Mister Merlin Emrys?''

''Yeah?''

Merlin turned around only to see the stupid asshole who had trashed his own aircraft and in the process nearly Merlin as well. He was standing there, all dressed up once more and swinging – of all things – a riding crop at his side.

''You caused me to crash my flying machine,'' Valiant said stiffly. ''I therefore intend to give you a thorough hiding.'' He swung his riding crop experimentally once more before he looked back at Merlin. ''Are you ready?''

Merlin looked at him amused. ''Sure,'' he said, pulling back his fist and punching Valiant square on the nose.

Next to him, Arthur stiffened and then – probably to keep himself from laughing out loud – he turned away a little, coughing into his closed fist. Merlin smiled at the obviously fuming Valiant, who was holding his bleeding nose.

''I afume you fink that's funny?'' he said. ''But I'd be not foe fure you'll be the laft to laugh.''

Merlin exchanged a glance with Arthur, who snorted through his nose. His eyes were sparkling with mirth, and he picked up the riding crop Valiant had dropped.

''There you are, Lord Valiant,'' he said, trying for an earnest face but failing pretty badly. ''In case you have someone else you want to trash with this.''

 

_~ (No Such Thing As) Innocent Intentions ~_

 

It was two days later that Arthur was crouching down under the Excalibur once more, checking the undercarriage for any kind of overstrain or fatigue. His last touch down had not been as smooth as he would have liked, and he was contemplating to change the wheels to something stronger even if that would add more weight.

When the door was pushed open and Morgana slipped inside, her footsteps muffled on the earthen floor, Arthur didn't look up.

''You're late!'' he grunted instead of a greeting. After all, Morgana _had_ said she wanted to help and Arthur didn't like waiting.

''Ooh, grumpy.'' Arthur could hear the eye-roll, even if he didn't see it. ''What crawled up your butt and died?''

''Morgana!'' Arthur's head came up so quickly, that he hit it on the Excalibur's tail. He cursed. ''Language, for heaven's sake! One could think you are a cab driver.''

''Don't be so condescending, Arthur, I have heard you spouting a lot worse,'' Morgana said, looking him up and down when he stood to wipe his hands on a cloth. He was still not meeting her much too knowing eyes. ''So will you tell me what's been going on with you? You've been in a weird mood lately, and I've hardly even seen you these past few days.''

''I'm busy Morgana. Not everyone has a life as idle as yours.''

''Don't remind me,'' she sighed and came around the tail to kiss him on the cheek. ''Ew,'' she complained the next moment, pulling a face, ''you taste like castor oil.''

That, finally, made him chuckle and they smiled at each other before her look turned expectant. ''Well?'' she asked. ''If you're so busy, tell me what I can do to help you with your lady.''

Arthur raised his eyebrows, letting his eyes roam over her outfit, a black and white striped combination, topped by another one of those silly hats of hers. His smile broadened.

''You can help me grease the axles,'' he said, throwing her a can - which she caught, but just barely.

When they were engrossed in their work - although Morgana still tried to wheedle something out of Arthur - there was a sharp knock on the gate. Looking up, Arthur saw none other than Merlin Emrys slouching in the door, looking first at Arthur and then at the Excalibur with a smile and shining eyes.

''You sure built yourself something there,'' he said admiringly, coming in and letting his hand glide over the tail rudders in a way that had Arthur fighting a tight feeling in his chest as well as his pants.

''What can I do for you, Mr. Emrys?'' he asked, getting up.

''Oh,'' Merlin shook his head with a small smile, as if he had almost forgotten what he was here for. ''I wondered if I could maybe borrow a monkey wrench?''

Arthur raised his eyebrows. ''A monkey wrench?''

''Uhm, yeah...'' Merlin rubbed the back of his head, which made his hair stick up in a ridiculous way that emphasised his even more ridiculous ears. He also had a faint blush covering those sharp cheekbones. ''It's... uhm-''

''I can lend you an adjustable spanner, if that's what you're looking for.'' Arthur grabbed the tool from his worktable and held it out to the other man with a mockingly raised eyebrow.

''Oh, yeah.'' Merlin chuckled. ''I guess that's what you call it in England, huh?''

''Indeed. We do like to use the proper name for things.''

''Yeah, I noticed.'' Merlin's smile was warm and Arthur felt it go right to his bones. ''People aren't as proper where I come from.''

There was a cough that sounded suspiciously like a giggle coming from behind them, but Arthur tried to ignore it. Merlin, of course, didn't.

''Oh, Miss Morgana,'' he said, his eyes lighting up, and he tipped his brow with a finger, inclining his head at Arthur's sister. ''I didn't see you there.''

''Mr. Emrys.''

''I'd been waiting for you the other day,'' Merlin said eagerly. ''But you never showed.''

Ice settled in Arthur's veins, and he whipped back around to look at his sister, whose eyes were wide and her expression the same as that one time Arthur had caught her smoking behind the gardener's shed a few years ago.

''I'm sorry, Mr. Emrys. I just couldn't get away,'' Morgana said, trying not to look guilty and failing.

''Oh.''

Arthur couldn't believe what he was hearing, and he balled his hands into fists, grounding his teeth against each other so hard it hurt. Ugly, angry feelings twisted in his gut and he wanted to punch someone but he wasn't really sure who.

Although... it should be obvious really, shouldn't it be? He should grab that gangly bastard of an American with his innocent blue eyes, and his big, smiling mouth and punch him square in the face. And Arthur wanted to. He did. He wanted to grab that inappropriate, insolent idiot and push him right up against the wall and then he would-

''You've got what you came for, didn't you, Mr. Emrys?'' Arthur gritted out, not able to look back at Merlin.

There were images in his head. Images of Merlin, against the wall with his hair wild and his open mouth panting, and Arthur couldn't look at him, felt like he might do something unforgivable if he did.

''Oh. Yeah...'' Merlin had the gall to sound disappointed. ''Thank you,'' he said quietly, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. ''I'll bring it back as soon as I'm finished with it.''

He hesitated for another moment when Arthur didn't reply. ''I guess I'll see you both in Dover tomorrow then,'' he said, his voice struggling for his usual brightness and enthusiasm, which only made Arthur even angrier.

''I sure shall look out for you,'' Morgana said with one of her nefarious little smiles, and

Arthur stared at her incredulously as the door fell shut behind Merlin.

''Are you out of your bloody mind?'' he growled as soon as he knew that Merlin Emrys was out of hearing distance. ''What the hell do you think you're doing, Morgana?''

''What do you mean?'' Morgana asked, turning back to the undercarriage so that she wouldn't have to meet his eyes.

''You can't- … Do you have... _intentions_ towards this... this American country bumpkin?''

He was appalled, that's what he was. He couldn't believe that his sister would truly consider a liaison with someone like Merlin Emrys. Meeting up in secret and doing who knows what kind of indecent things. If she was found out, it would surely ruin her reputation.

Arthur had come to accept Morgana's often times rebellious behaviour, but there had to be a line, and the idea of her and Merlin Emrys made Arthur's blood boil. He was prepared to demand satisfaction if that bastard dared to touch _his sister_.

When Morgana just shrugged, Arthur exploded. ''You can't be serious! Morgana!''

Morgana raised one well coiffed eyebrow. ''He's a good looking chap, isn't he?''

Arthur glowered. ''I wouldn't have noticed, and it hardly matters either way.''

Morgana chuckled. ''Don't sell yourself short, Arthur. You're quite observant.''

''You know father would _never_ allow-''

''He doesn't _have_ to allow everything, Arthur,'' Morgana interrupted him sharply. ''Sometimes we have to do what _we_ feel is right.''

She watched him for a long moment - scrutinised him really, in a way that made his skin itch. It was in moments like this that Arthur was reminded of the fact that she was actually three years older than him.

''I know this is what you want, Arthur.'' She swept her hand out to indicate the Excalibur and the whole of the shed. ''You don't want to be a soldier and you don't want to take over the publishing house. You want to fly. And you want to create air crafts from your own ideas. I know that, and I wish you would just do it. But don't forget that I have my own dreams too.''

''Dreams that involve _him_?'' Arthur asked, and even to his own ears his voice sounded petulant.

''Dreams that involve not having to answer that question!'' Morgana snapped.

For a moment they glared at each other. Then Morgana asked, ''Did you change the oil in the tail engine?''

Arthur looked away to the side. Morgana was his sister, and she had always stood by him. Whatever strange and absurd things he might be feeling in regard to Merlin Emrys, he couldn't take it out on her. He shook his head and sighed, trying to consciously loosen his tense muscles. The race. The race and his flying machine. Those were the things he would concentrate on.

''Yes,'' he finally said. ''You were right. It needed changing.''

''Of course,'' Morgana said, a knowing glint in her eyes that Arthur didn’t much care for. ''I am always right.''

 

_~ Dover Beach ~_

 

The next day dawned bright and promising, with a cloudless sky and the early July weather warm and almost sultry. It was probably the perfect day for an outing at Dover beach; Arthur just wished he would have been able to fly there, instead of having to ride in the car with his father, Morgana and the chief editor of the Daily Mirror. His father's sometimes incredibly condescending statements had Arthur biting down on the inside of his cheek, and he still couldn't look at Morgana without wondering whether she was really planning to meet up with Merlin on the beach side.

''The trouble with these international affairs is that they attract so many foreigners,'' Uther said just then, and Arthur choked a little, earning him a confused gaze from his father.

The purpose of their journey to Dover – apart from providing some distraction and entertainment for everyone involved – was for the participants to be able to acquaint themselves with the route the race would take. Gaius was driving in the first vehicle, pointing out landmarks for the participating pilots to help them find their way from Brookley Airfield to Dover where pilots would make a stopover before they attempted to cross the Channel the next day with their newly fuelled up flying machines.

Three more days and they would take off and then Arthur could finally show the world, could show his _father_ and everyone who doubted him because of his youth that he was an excellent pilot – the best of them – just like the Excalibur was the perfect flying machine. He'd refined the aerodynamics, strengthened the undercarriage and managed to wheedle another increase on her long distance speed out of the engine. They were prepared, and Arthur couldn't wait for the sun to rise on the day of the race.

Their run to Dover took them the whole morning, and when they finally arrived at the white cliffs towering over the beach, Arthur was glad he could flee from the company of his family and stretch his legs, walking a little further up the high coast. He had been to Dover often enough to know the location. He knew what trying to cross the Channel might amount to, and staring out over the vast blue sea, out to where the blurry horizon was melting with the sky, would not give him any insight as to how his flying machine would master the task.

Keeping himself a little separated Arthur watched the mass of people instead – pilots, organisers, journalists and simple spectators – all milling about and chattering excitedly. He tried to seek out the other contestants, watching them take in the challenge they would face while he considered how much of a competition they would present. Arthur had watched as many practice flights as he'd been able to, and had narrowed down the real threats to a handful of pilots.

There was Gwaine Dubois, a Frenchman who almost seemed to flirt with the sky when he was flying. And there was Elyan Yamamoto, a Japanese who was said to have set a new record for long distance flights just a few months ago. He had only arrived yesterday though, and Arthur had yet to see him fly. Another pilot who might be able to beat Arthur to the victory was, as much as it pained him to say it, Valiant. He was not a very skilled pilot, but he had a team of competent engineers, and had bought himself another new and very nice flying machine. If he was lucky and didn't meet any major mishaps, that might just carry him all the way to Paris. And then there was Merlin Emrys, of course. While his aircraft might be on the old side and quite heavy, Arthur had seen him handle the machine - and he was a prodigy. He flew that thing as if thinking of a course correction alone made the Kilgharrah comply.

Right now, Merlin Emrys seemed to be his greatest competitor. And that was certainly the only reason that Arthur's eyes kept finding the tall, gangly figure of Merlin in the crowd. It wasn't Arthur's fault. Merlin's bloody stupid, red neckerchief stuck out like a sore thumb, as if his ears weren't serving that purpose well enough on their own.

Watching Merlin and his friend – Arthur had not bothered to find out his name – laughing like schoolboys and pointing excitedly at everything and nothing made Arthur scoff. Merlin Emrys might be a prodigy of a pilot, but he was also completely ridiculous. He had no idea what Morgana could _possibly_ find attractive about him. The ears alone should turn away any otherwise interested party. The big blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and full mouth might be interesting enough – if he were a _girl –_ but he was skinny, coltish and without any proper form of decorum.

And dear lord, what the man was wearing. Never mind the awful suit that seemed two inches too short, but that was an honest to god _cowb_ _oy hat_ perching on top of his head. Really, Merlin Emrys could not have been more absurd if he'd tried.

~*~

When most people were done staring out over the waves and trying to make out the French coast with the bare eye, the party relocated to the beach. There the journalists would have the opportunity to question the participating pilots on their winning strategies and everyone else could take a dip in the shallow waves and have their fill of canapés and champagne.

Arthur had no plans to participate in the frivolous splashing, but he knew there was nothing that would keep Morgana from parading her new bathing costume. And she didn't seem to be the only one. The hot weather had people rushing from the high-wheeled, wooden changing-rooms and into the surf in hordes, screaming and giggling like little kids. Arthur had never felt too comfortable with these kind of spectacles. He had no interest in ogling the ladies and their exposed legs, and certainly too much self-respect to chase after them in some silly game or other. So he was quite glad to turn his back on those scenes when Morgana asked him to fetch her some champagne.

As he was wandering over to the stands with the refreshments, Arthur had to admit though that cooling off in the water would have been nice. His dove-coloured summer suit – complete with waistcoat, cravat and starched, high-collared shirt – was starting to stick uncomfortably to his skin. He picked up two glasses and a bottle, and only narrowly avoided running into his father who was holding court with a group of foreign journalists in the shade.

Arthur was just strolling back towards the water, when Valiant stepped out of the shadows and into his path.

''Pendragon!'' he grinned at him sardonically. ''Looking for some Dutch courage?''

''Valiant.'' Arthur looked the other man up and down. ''How's the nose?''

If Valiant had been a better man, his glare might have struck Arthur down. As it was, it only made him smile more.

''You might want to tell your Yankee friend that he had better take care.''

Arthur raised an eyebrow, completely unimpressed. ''Why don't you tell him that yourself? Afraid he might punch you again?''

Valiant scoffed. ''He took me by surprise. That won't happen again.'' His face suddenly turned dark, and he hissed. ''A Lord Valiant won't be made a fool by an unwashed cowboy.''

''It looked to me like you managed quite well by yourself,'' Arthur said innocently, but Valiant didn't even seem to hear him really. His dark eyes were gleaming with ire.

''Mark my words, Pendragon!'' he said, the threat audible in his voice. ''If he thinks he can best me, he has another thing coming. And if you stick with him, the same goes for you!''

He walked off then, in the other direction, and Arthur watched him go with a frown. He'd never seen Valiant so close to loosing his countenance. But then Arthur had never had much of an opportunity to challenge the older man. The threats seemed vague and self-indulging at best though, and Arthur didn't pay them much mind.

He stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, walking down to the water and shielding his eyes with one hand, trying to make out his sister in between all the people frolicking in the waves. He finally caught sight of the sailor hat she was wearing and found her in the shallow surf with a group of other people, of whom Arthur only recognised her best friend Gwen.

''Morgana!'' he called out to her, pouring champagne into the glasses before placing the bottle in the sand by his feet.

''Oh, Arthur, there you are!'' Morgana beamed and waved at him, taking a sip from the glass she was already holding in her hand. ''Gwen already brought me one, but I'm certain Mr. Emrys here would love some champagne. Wouldn't you Mr. Emrys?''

The man next to Morgana, for whom Arthur had hardly spared a look so far, turned around and for a second Arthur was stunned speechless. It was Merlin for sure, clad in a dark blue bathing suit with small white stripes, the wet material clinging to his skin and moulding over every curve and every angle. It should have looked ridiculous on his skinny frame, only he wasn't all that skinny, but lean with long legs, broad shoulders and a slim waist. The outfit didn't leave much to the imagination. He looked carefree and cheerful, all hair sticking up and smiling brightly, and Arthur suddenly felt stuffy and foolish in his suit, constricted and also much too hot.

''I sure would,'' Merlin said, raising his eyebrows at Arthur but not making any attempt to come out of the water.

Arthur glared at him. He knew he had to look stupid. Standing on the beach with two glasses of champagne, all dressed up and nowhere to go. It was a challenge Merlin had issued him and, if the insolent grin on his face was any indication, he had no doubts about who would win it. He obviously didn't know much about what it meant to be a Pendragon.

Putting on his most arrogant smirk, Arthur walked into the waves.

''Well here you are then, Mr. Emrys,'' he said, handing a flabbergasted Merlin the champagne. ''Cheers!''

He clinked their glasses and took a sip from his own, trying not to flinch when a small wave hit him up to his crotch. His trousers stuck to his legs and arse, and his shoes would probably be ruined, but at least the cold water helped to cool him down a little.

Merlin blinked at him and a brilliant smile erupted on his face. ''Thank you,'' he said quietly, obviously surprised. He quickly took a sip from his drink, but not quickly enough to cover the blush spreading over his cheeks. Arthur didn't know what to make of it.

Morgana smiled at Merlin as if he was the most adorable thing she had ever seen, and Arthur felt it like a slap in the face. The reminder of their obvious affection only made Arthur feel more like an outsider.

In a clipped voice he said, ''I'm not sure what you think you are doing here, Mr. Emrys, but I would like to inform you that, if you keep paying your attentions to my sister in this completely inappropriate manner, I will have to put your teeth out.''

Draining his glass, Arthur gave them both a nod and stalked out of the water and up to where he knew his father's driver had parked the car. Maybe the man would be able to find him a new pair of trousers or a towel at least.

~*~

Merlin watched Arthur go, completely stunned. His ears still couldn't believe what he had just heard, and his eyes weren't helpful at all because they insisted on following Arthur all the way up the beach, staring at the way his wet trousers clung to his backside. When the other man had finally vanished in the crowd of people, Merlin turned around to Morgana.

''Sister?'' he asked faintly.

Morgana chuckled. ''Let me guess, you thought I was his fiancée.''

''Well... you look nothing alike!'' Merlin accused her, but that only made Morgana laugh more.

''And here I thought you'd be happy about this?'' she asked, raising her eyebrows at him meaningfully.

Merlin, still trying to make heads and tails of this new revelation and all the implications that might come with it, just looked at her confused. Then the penny dropped.

''Oh!''

Morgana grinned at him, and Merlin's eyes widened. ''Oh, you... oh no. I don't- you mean because I-... Well, shit.''

When Morgana just looked at him expectantly, Merlin knew he had to explain. ''I'm not-. What your _brother_ implied... It's not like that. I mean, you're obviously a very beautiful woman, but I'm not... not trying to court you. I'm... god, I'm so very sorry if I gave you that impression.''

Merlin looked at her miserably, but Morgana just smiled.

''Don't worry, Mr. Emrys,'' she said, patting his arm. ''You shall be forgiven.''

''I shall?'' Merlin asked.

''Why, yes, of course. Because you're going to make it up to me, aren't you?''

 

_~ The Joyride ~_

 

After they had gotten dressed in a hurry, Morgana dragged Merlin back towards the motorcars. Seeing her trying to be stealthy in a monstrosity of a hat was hilarious, but it also gave Merlin the distinct feeling that he was going to regret this. There were a dozen good reasons for not doing what he was doing right now – one of the best probably that Arthur was going to kill him for perceived but non-existent slights against his sister's honour.

Morgana's enthusiasm was infectious though, and Merlin would have taken any excuse at this point to get as far away from her blond jerk of a brother as possible. He didn't want to think about Arthur, but his brain was still caught up in the image of his wet trousers, that damn arrogant smirk and the blue eyes blazing with anger. Nothing good could ever come of this though, and just because the younger Lord Pendragon was not engaged to an incredibly beautiful woman, didn't mean he was interested in tall, gangly Americans with the habit to put their foot in their mouth.

So Merlin resolved to forget about him. Because going back to the airfield early to take Arthur's sister for a joyride was in no way an attempt to gain more of the man's attention. It was, after all, completely innocent. Well, maybe not completely. Morgana might not have said anything about the reasons for their secrecy, but Merlin wasn't completely stupid.

''Your brother doesn't want you to fly, does he?'' he asked when they rumpled down the road, back towards London.

''Arthur?'' Morgana looked at him surprised, and her smile was fond when she said, ''Oh no. My brother is not the problem really. It's just that he had to promise father; he had to give him his word. And Arthur stands by his word.''

''You're gonna get me into trouble, aren't you?''

''Not more than you're getting yourself in,'' Morgana said mysteriously.

When Merlin just looked at her with questioning eyes, she elaborated. ''I was prepared to try all my female charms to convince you to take me up with your machine. But I got the distinct impression those would have been completely wasted on you. Wouldn't they?''

Merlin tucked at his collar uncomfortably. ''What are you trying to say?''

''From the way you've been looking at him, you seem to be far more interested in my brother.''

Merlin faltered. ''That's...'' He glanced at her, but there was no disgust, no wariness on her face. Just open amusement. ''Okay, that's actually pretty observant. And true. Just... Please... Don't tell him.''

''I won't. Your secret is safe with me.''

''Thank you.''

''Although... '' Morgana continued musingly after a moment. ''Do you know that he has of yet not paid attentions to any lady?''

Merlin frowned. Arthur was a good-looking man, and he didn't seem shy. ''He's very passionate about flying. I can understand how that pulls your attention away from anything else.''

''It didn't keep you from noticing him.''

Merlin coughed. ''He's hard to miss, if you don't mind me saying so.''

That made Morgana laugh out loud, and she nudged him in the side with an elbow. ''I do like you, Mr. Emrys. It's a shame you have your eyes on my idiot brother.''

''Well, it's not like it will get me anywhere. So it's best not talked about.''

Morgana watched him curiously from the side. After a long moment of contemplation she said, ''His interest in you is quite apparent.''

''He thinks I'm courting you, and apparently I don't match up to his standards.''

Morgana scoffed. ''Believe me, he's not normally that obnoxious about men flirting with me. It _has_ happened you know.''

Merlin cast her a sideways glance. ''Of that I am very sure, Miss Morgana.''

Her smile was bright, and she linked her arm with his. ''Well, enough of my brother then. Tell me all about your flying machine.''

Having left while the rest of the party was still in full swing, had given them a head start of a good two hours at least, and since the airfield was pretty much deserted right now, no one stopped them from taking the Kilgharrah out on a little out of schedule excursion.

Two of the mechanics helped to roll her out, and then gave Morgana a hand to climb up to where Merlin was already sitting in the pilot seat. The bench was broad enough to fit two people sitting next to each other with the stick between them, and Morgana clung to his arm slightly, her excitement and wide eyes belying her earlier claims to having flown 'lot's of times' before. This was obviously a first for her.

''You're ready?'' Merlin asked her when he had turned the Kilgharrah's nose to point over the field they would take off from.

Morgana nodded eagerly and sent him a bright smile, but she didn't let go of his arm, her grip only becoming more forceful when the Kilgharrah rolled over the field, gaining speed. And then they took off, the ground falling back beneath them as the Kilgharrah became airborne once more. It was a moment of happy elation for Merlin, every time. No matter how often he had experienced it, the wonder never ceased.

''This is incredible!'' Morgana shouted next to him, when they reached a good height and circled over the field. The smile was almost splitting her face in two. ''Everything is so far away. So small. Oh Merlin, this is marvellous! I'm so glad you took me up here.''

Merlin grinned at her, and steered the aircraft into a steep curve, making her whoop in surprise and joy.

The next thing Merlin heard though, was a sharp crack from behind him. Looking back, he immediately saw what had been the source of it.

''Damn!'' he cursed. ''A tail strut has broken, this could get us in trouble upon landing, I have to try and fix it somehow.''

Suddenly Morgana didn't look as excited anymore. ''What?'' she cried, casting a glance behind her, where the two parts of the strut hung loose. ''How will you do this?''

''You'll have to steer for a bit, while I climb back there and see what I can do.''

He gestured for Morgana to take the stick and move over so that she had a better leverage.

''Hold her steady, okay?'' he said, and turned around, coming to kneel on the seat beside her.

He could just about reach the strut from the pilot seat when he leaned forward as far as he could, but he would need something to bind the two ends together. There was nothing else, so he unbuckled his belt and pulled it free from the loops of his trousers. That's when the Kilgharrah dipped forward sharply, and Merlin tumbled down backwards, grabbing at a wing strut at the last moment.

''Hold her steady!'' he barked, his heart hammering in his chest. He tried not to think how very nearly he could have fallen, and what a stupid way to die that would have been.

''I'm trying! It's not as easy as it looks,'' Morgana gritted out, fighting to hold the stick fast.

Since his trousers were hanging at his knees, Merlin kicked them off and then pulled himself up again, climbing back to the tail. He tried to hold the strut and wrap his belt around it while the aircraft jumped and swerved, and just when he had managed to do so, they crossed over the airfield again and Merlin saw Arthur down at the barracks next to a car and what looked like a very pissed off Uther Pendragon.

''Great,'' Merlin sighed, and turned back around, taking the stick from a very relieved Morgana.

''Seems like we've been busted,'' Merlin said, pointing down to the ground.

Morgana's eyes widened, and then she looked back at him, the expression on her face one of regret and guilt. ''Do you think we could just stay up here?'' she asked, trying to make it sound like a joke.

Merlin smiled weakly. ''I'm afraid we're about to run out of fuel,'' he answered before he pushed the stick forward, bringing the Kilgharrah down to approach landing. ''Time to face the music.''

~*~

As soon as they had landed, Uther Pendragon descended upon them like a vengeful warrior, stomping up to Merlin, while Arthur helped his sister down from the Kilgharrah.

''How dare you take my daughter up in your aircraft?'' Lord Uther Pendragon hissed at him, his face turning a worrisome shade of red. ''This race was organised to advance aviation. Not for crazy imbeciles like you to take joyrides. Did it occur to you that, would you have crashed with a woman on board, you would have put flying back twenty years?''

''It's not his fault father!'' Morgana tried to catch Uther by the arm. ''It was my idea!''

''Oh, I'm well aware of that, Morgana. And believe me we will have words about it.''

''Look,'' Merlin tried. ''I'm sorry if I made you worry, but I knew what I was doing. She was in no danger really.''

''In no danger?'' Uther asked incredulously. ''You could have killed her!'' He looked over his shoulder at a third man, whose presence Merlin had not noticed before. ''Gaius. I want that machine scratched off the list. It's disqualified from the race.''

''What?'' Morgana cried. ''No! You can't do that, father! It's not fair!''

''Morgana,'' Arthur, who had been silent so far, snapped. ''Go back to the car.''

The look Morgana sent in his direction was one of utter betrayal, but Merlin wasn't sure if he could fault him. It was clear that Morgana's pleadings did nothing to soften Uther Pendragon's resolve when he gave Merlin one more contemptuous look.

''And make yourself decent, for heaven's sake!'' he spat, before he turned away.

Merlin swallowed, watching Uther Pendragon walk back to his car with Morgana in tow. He was slowly beginning to realise that he had just destroyed his only chance at maybe – just maybe – making his lifelong dream come true. At being more than a poor sod from Phoenix, Arizona with a bunch of crazy ideas and no penny to his name.

Then he saw that Arthur was still standing there, staring at him with his eyes like pools of ice.

''You should have listened to me,'' he said coldly.

Merlin huffed out a bitter laugh. ''I guess I can't argue with that.'' He looked at the other man, trying to gauge what he was thinking, but Arthur's gaze was inscrutable.

''And will you take my teeth out now?'' Merlin finally asked with a desperate attempt at gallows humour.

But Arthur didn't smile at his jibe.

''I think my father already did that, don't you?'' he asked expressionless, turning away and walking after his father and sister, towards where the rest of his family was just getting in the car.

Merlin was left standing there with his dreams in shambles, shaking and distraught in his undergarments.

_~*~_

Arthur couldn't believe how stupid Merlin had been. Nor how selfishly Morgana had been, for that matter, taking advantage of it. Maybe Merlin was too love-struck to realise what a risk he had been running, but his sister had known how their father was likely to react.

Being thrown out of the race would cut Merlin worse than any of the other participants. Their reasons for wanting to join that race were vanity and fame rather than the ten thousand pounds, seeing how most of them were rich men with a lot of resources. But from what Merlin had told Arthur about his background, Arthur knew how important the shot at the price money was for Merlin. He and his friend were up to their ears in debts.

Arthur couldn't remember the last time he'd been so angry with Morgana. He understood her need to rebel against the restrictions their father and society in general put upon her. He understood because there were restrictions like that – even if of a different kind – on him as well. But to use poor Merlin like that...

Standing in the shadows on the stairs leading down to the entrance hall, Arthur watched Merlin pace, head bowed and hat in hand. He looked miserable, desperate but already close to resigned. The shout of ''Most certainly not!'' that had been heard even through the closed doors of his father's office a few minutes prior, probably had not encouraged him.

It didn't take much longer after that for the door to open. Gaius slipped out, quickly closing it behind him again. The look he gave Merlin was sympathetic, and Merlin sagged as the last hope he might have still kindled inside his chest vanished.

''I'm sorry, my dear boy,'' Gaius said, coming forward and patting Merlin on the shoulder. ''But I'm afraid Lord Pendragon is quite insistent. Not only are you out of the race, you're to remove yourself and your flying machine from Brookley as soon as possible.''

''Did you tell him that I needed to speak with him?''

Gaius nodded. ''He would have none of it. And to be honest, I don't think it would change anything.''

''But... this would be a catastrophe for us! If I don't get back in that race, I'm gonna lose everything.'' Merlin shook his head. ''We don't even have enough money to get back to London, never mind all the way to Arizona.''

''I really am sorry, but he won't be moved.''

Merlin nodded, and Arthur could see him making the effort to put on a brave face. ''I want to thank you anyway. I appreciate it that you tried.''

''What are you going to do now?'' Gaius asked, leading Merlin to the door.

Merlin sighed and gave a small, uncertain shrug. ''I don't know. I will have to sell my aircraft.''

It was obvious to Arthur that saying that out loud alone was difficult for Merlin. And even though he didn't want to, Arthur felt the stab of sympathy. If he were to lose the Excalibur... he would be devastated.

''Oh... I'm sorry to hear that,'' Gaius said with some surprise. ''But at least you'll get a lot of offers here.''

The smile Merlin attempted was pathetic, and it should not have tugged at Arthur like it did, worming itself inside his chest. When the door fell shut behind Merlin Emrys, Arthur sighed. He supposed he'd have to talk to his father.

 

_~ Gratitude (The Kiss) ~_

Merlin had stayed up all night working on the Kilgharrah. He supposed everyone else would think it superfluous and silly, but to Merlin the Kilgharrah was more than an aircraft. It was the representation of his every dream. The one thing he had found in his life so far that felt completely right. The Kilgharrah had spoken to him, had carried him into the sky and had shown him a world that was different and beautiful and free. Giving it up, handing the Kilgharrah over to someone who would not take care of her properly, would not understand her like Merlin did... Merlin felt like he was about to give up his own child.

He had tried to come up with a different solution, but time was running out quickly. So quickly that it still felt completely unreal. But Lord Pendragon wanted him and his aircraft gone before the race, and there was nothing Merlin could do about it. He didn't have time to find work, or make contact with people who might be interested in the kind of shows they had done in Arizona. There simply was no other way than selling the Kilgharrah.

With a mournful sigh, Merlin let his fingertips glide over its wings, the struts and guys, mumbling, ''I'm so sorry old friend.''

It was turning evening already, the last rays of the setting sun falling through the dirty window and painting the flying machine in the fiery colours of the dragon Merlin had always envisioned in it - silly childhood fantasies of a boy who had nothing but his own imagination to keep him company. It was probably time to grow up now.

The door to the shed was pushed open then, the sound cutting through his quiet reverence. He was expecting it to be Will coming back with news of who might be willing to take the Kilgharrah off their hands, and so Merlin was surprised to see Morgana slipping in when he turned around.

''Miss Morgana!'' Merlin acknowledged her, trying to pull a smile forth on his face. ''I hope you didn't come to apologise again. I told you already, I don't blame you for this. I knew your father was likely to be pissed, so it's really my own damn fault.''

He shook his head with a sigh. His mother had always chided him on his impulsiveness. When Morgana didn't say anything he looked up at her and was surprised to see her smiling at him, bright and cheerful, and her eyes sparkling with excitement.

''Oh, Merlin,'' she said, rushing towards him. ''That's what I came to tell you! You don't have to bear the consequences. Father decided that you would be allowed to take part in the race after all.''

Merlin stared at her in disbelief. Surely he had to have misheard that. He had tried everything, had pleaded and argued, and had even been prepared to get down on his knees in front of Uther Pendragon and beg. If only the man had agreed to see him. It probably would have still been useless because, from what people had told him, Merlin would have had better chances to get blood from a stone than get Uther Pendragon to change his mind.

''I – what? I can participate!?'' Merlin looked at her dazedly.

''Yes!'' Morgana nodded happily. ''After some _very_ persuasive arguments, father finally saw reason.''

Merlin was still too stunned for words. ''He did- how...?''

Rubbing his palm over his face he turned to the Kilgharrah. His aircraft, his dragon, that he might not have to loose after all. The relief almost made him delirious. Then he remembered Morgana and his manners, and whipped back around.

''I'm sorry. I mean... this is... _great_ news!'' He grabbed Morgana's hands and looked down at her. ''Thank you. Thank you so much! I don't know what to say... I didn't think there was still a chance. How the hell did you convince your father?''

Morgana shook her head. ''I didn't,'' she said and her smile turned wry when she added, ''So I'm actually not the person you should thank for this.''

Merlin frowned. ''No? Then who-...?''

''Arthur.''

She couldn't have shocked him more if she'd said the king himself had come to plead on Merlin's behalf.

''Arthur? But... why would he do that?''

Merlin couldn't think of an explanation. It was true that he had thought at one point that Arthur and him were about to become friends, but then he'd been laughing with Merlin one moment and hissing and even threatening him the next. Even if he assumed that Merlin was trying to court his sister, the inconsistency of his attitude had let Merlin come to the conclusion, that Arthur must have realised about Merlin's attraction to him. And that it was anything but welcome.

''Shouldn't he be glad about any pilot who's out of the competition?'' he asked Morgana, swallowing heavily. ''And, what's more, I'm pretty sure he hates me.''

Morgana's face turned serious. ''Merlin, my brother is a stubborn, stuck up and incredibly irritating bastard, but he's also a very honourable man. He wouldn't want you to be cast out on my behalf – and don't say it wasn't my fault. It was. At least to a healthy degree.''

Merlin blinked at her uncertainly when she stepped closer then, searching his eyes as if she would find answers there to questions Merlin didn't even know she'd asked.

''I know he admires and respects you as a pilot. He might want to win this race, but he wouldn't want to win with our father clearing the field for him. And I also think that you're mistaken when you think that he doesn't like you. I think he might actually like you a lot. Much more than he's really comfortable with.''

Staring at her, Merlin tried to breathe but his lungs refused to work. Morgana had made hints before, but she had never come out and stated it so bluntly. He didn't know what to say, and Morgana might have understood, because all she did was kiss him on the cheek and then turned to go.

When she had left, Merlin sunk down to the floor, and sat with his back against the Kilgharah's undercarriage for a long time. Some part of him wanted to believe what Morgana had said, wanted to rush over to the barrack Arthur was occupying and tell him how grateful he was. And then tell him to make up his stupid mind already. He couldn't be the noble hero and the snarling villain at the same time. It wasn't fair to confuse Merlin even further when Arthur had already made a mess out of his heart.

Worrying the inside of his lip with his teeth, Merlin frowned into the distance. All right, this was it. He was going to go over there and demand answers. Jumping to his feet, Merlin didn't stop to think about what he was going to say, instead letting his resolve carry him out the door and down the path to where a flickering light was shining from under the door of Arthur's shed.

He pushed the door open and walked right in, not bothering to knock or ask for permission. If Arthur wanted to punch him, Merlin rather he'd get it over and done with.

''So I hear it's you I've got to thank for not getting thrown out after all,'' he said to Arthur's arse, since the rest of him was buried in the guts of his aircraft.

Arthur jerked up, bumped his head, and then scrambled out from the machine. When he turned towards Merlin with a surprised and slightly flustered expression, Merlin's heart jumped a little inside his chest. Arthur looked all tousled and just a little bit flushed, and he blinked at Merlin almost uncertainly.

''You're not Leon,'' he said with a frown.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. ''And you're stating the obvious.''

Arthur picked up a cloth, starting to wipe his hands on it, eyeing Merlin warily, and Merlin suddenly wondered whether that was a nervous habit of his. The idea of Arthur being nervous because of _him_ only made Merlin bolder. He took a step forward.

''Morgana told me what you've done,'' he said, raising his chin and meeting Arthur's gaze head on. But the blond jerk refused to rise up to the challenge. He turned away, picking something up from his worktable.

''I didn't do much,'' he mumbled.

Merlin huffed. ''It might not be much to you, but for me – for us – it makes all the difference in the world.''

Arthur didn't say anything else, picking up a wrench only to put it back down, as if he had no idea why he had taken hold of it in the first place. This lack of reaction only served to frustrate Merlin more.

''How did you convince your father anyway?'' he asked, stepping forward and willing Arthur to look at him.

''I didn't.''

''But Morgana-''

Arthur turned around sharply, his eyes glaring as if they wanted to burn holes in Merlin's head. ''I told him that the American ambassador was deeply offended by his decision. Even my father doesn't want to cause a diplomatic crisis.''

''He was offended?'' Merlin asked confused. ''Wait, you know the American ambassador!?''

Arthur rolled his eyes. ''No.'' He looked at Merlin as if he was waiting for him to connect the dots. When he didn't he huffed an exasperated sigh. ''But neither does my _father_.''

''Oh. _Oh..._ ''

''Yeah... so, no need to thank me or anything.'' Arthur narrowed his eyes. ''And don't think that means you've got my approval in regards to my sister.''

Now it was Merlin's turn to roll his eyes. ''You really are a bit of a clotpole aren't you?'' he asked with a chuckle.

''What's that supposed to mean?''

Merlin started to walk around the Excalibur, coming closer to where Arthur was still standing next to his worktable. ''It means that your sister has nothing to fear from me. She also has nothing to expect.''

Arthur looked at him uncomprehendingly, and Merlin took a deep breath. If Morgana had read her brother wrong, this might very well send him back to square one, getting him thrown out of the race even quicker than last time. But Merlin was no coward, and there was no bowing out now. No backing down. He was too close already, and Arthur's expression was only becoming more confused as Merlin got into his personal space.

He let his eyes drop to Arthur's lips. ''She's not the one who caught my eye,'' Merlin whispered hoarsely.

And then he kissed Arthur.

He pushed him back against the rump of the Excalibur, hands moving over the rough cotton of his shirt to the shoulders and further up, gripping and pulling slightly at Arthur's silky hair. It felt incredible, heady and intoxicating, and Merlin's whole body pressed itself against Arthur's solid form as if of its own volition.

At first Arthur stiffened, his body going rigid, and for a second Merlin thought he had made a mistake after all. But then Arthur's arms came up, hands gliding tentatively over Merlin's back until they were framing Merlin's face and his mouth opened further as Arthur pushed into the kiss. It was breathless and messy and the best kiss Merlin had ever had, full of anger and disbelief and a longing that went so deep, Merlin feared it might consume him.

Arthur turned them around, pressing Merlin against the tail of the plane, his broad frame holding him captive. Giddy with arousal and pure, untethered happiness, Merlin smiled up at him.

And then Arthur frowned, a shadow of doubt falling over is face, and he drew back a little. ''Is this your way to show me your gratitude?'' he asked, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but his face already closing off.

''What?'' Merlin asked dumbfounded. For a moment he was too taken aback to come up with a retort. Then the anger washed over the hurt, and he planted his palms on Arthur's chest, pushing him back with so much force he made Arthur stumble.

''How... God, you bastard!'' Merlin hissed. ''My _gratitude_? Most certainly not, Lord Pendragon!''

''Merlin-''

''What? Just because I'm poor and you are a posh ass, whose father is the king of everything you think I would pay you back by... this? How could I even think for a second that you're different.''

''Mer-''

But Merlin didn't hear him. He turned around stiffly and stalked out, banging the door behind him with so much force he might have broken it.

He was shaking with anger – and, yes, okay, _humiliation –_ when he made his way back to his own barrack. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have ever thought that Arthur Pendragon would see something more than a bumbling village idiot in him? The only one more delusional than himself was probably Morgana, and right now Merlin's only wish was to never have to see any of the Pendragons ever again.

~*~

When the door fell shut behind Merlin with a bang, Arthur stood there, completely still and with fingertips pressed to his tingling lips. Merlin had kissed him. Had pressed himself against him in the most shameless and wonderful manner, waking up every cell in Arthur's body like from a stifling sleep. And Arthur had kissed back. Because how could he not? How could he not have drunken form this glorious, forbidden cup – deeply, like a dying man in the desert? He had suspected. Had suspected these desires inside himself, but never... never had he imagined that someone might share them. Or that it would feel so right.

But Merlin had obviously come to him to thank him. He had said so himself. And Arthur could not bear the thought that, somehow, Merlin might have realised something about Arthur that he had not dared to look at too closely himself. That he might have felt the need to offer himself as compensation. The idea of taking advantage of Merlin in such a way would be unforgivable. Arthur swallowed heavily when another burst of earth-shattering lust rushed through him at the despicable idea.

Merlin had seemed truly offended at Arthur's suggestion though, more than that: he'd seemed hurt. Was it possible that Merlin's motivation for kissing him had not been repaying a favour, but that he had wanted to? That he had wanted Arthur in this most indecent way, as much as Arthur – he now realised – had wanted Merlin from the moment he'd first laid eyes on him?

Arthur sighed and rubbed the palm of his hand over his tired eyes. He was not likely to ever find out. Whatever interest Merlin Emrys might have had in him, Arthur had surely destroyed it. And with it any chance of feeling that rush of pleasure, of _Finally. This._ ever again.

 

_~ The Race ~_

 

Arthur didn't speak to Merlin again before the race. He caught sight of him from afar once but – whether by chance or decision – Merlin had turned and walked in the other direction. If there had been anything between them it seemed broken beyond repair. Arthur had not expected that thought to hurt so deeply.

The day of the race arrived with a burst of music and colours and excitement that came almost as a shock after the calm day to day preparations of the last weeks. The airfield had gained stands, filled with people in fine clothes drinking champagne and laughing, and the whole event had the general air of a funfair.

For Arthur, it was a day that marked a beginning that was also an end. It was the grand finale, where dreams were supposed to become reality, and it should have been _Arthur's_ day. Whenever he previously had thought of it, he had imagined feeling elated, confident and brimming with ambition. Instead he felt like a desperate island in the merry bustle, full of doubts and regrets, while his eyes again and again tried to find Merlin in the crowd. But even the red neckerchief was lost in the sea of people.

It wasn't until the very minutes before the starting signal that Arthur finally caught sight of him, walking over to the Kilgharrah. He was wearing a brown leather jacket and the neckerchief of course, and had his goggles pushed up into his unruly hair. The smile on his face was broad and cheerful, and Arthur turned away, unable to look at him any longer. It was too late to go over there now anyway, even for something as innocuous as wishing Merlin good luck. The pilots were expected to stay with their flying machines while they were officially introduced to the crowd, and Arthur was sure Merlin wouldn't even want to see him.

The aircrafts had been pulled into position, sitting like a string of beads between the stands, one behind the other. The order in which they would start had been chosen at random, and Arthur was the fourth in line with Merlin two places behind him.

Arthur's father was making his way down the line with Morgana, Gaius and a few of his other minions in tow now. He had decided that – as the sponsor – it was his duty to wish every one of the pilots good luck, but Uther was not much of a people person, so he kept it short. A handshake and a few words, and then Morgana would hand the pilots a red rose in lieu of a token.

Elyan Yamamoto and a German pilot bowed down for the customary kiss on the hand upon receiving it, but Gwaine Dubois didn't seem to put much stock on customs. He pulled Morgana in and gave her a big fat smooch on the mouth. Arthur chuckled when he saw the slightly shocked but nevertheless intrigued expression on his sister's face. Uther, though, glared at the Frenchman and pulled Morgana with him, coming towards Arthur now.

''You know what I expect from you, Arthur,'' his father said stiffly, giving him an awkward pat on the arm. ''Don't disappoint me, son.''

Arthur only barely managed to school his face into a mask of indifference, but inwardly he was scowling. ''Yes, father,'' he said, gritting his teeth.

Morgana rolled her eyes at him behind Uther's back and then shoved a flower at him brusquely. ''Try to come down in one piece, okay?'' she asked, giving him a very quick hug before she followed their father further down the line.

When they reached Merlin, Arthur could hear his father's harsh voice.

''You are lucky to be even here today,'' he told Merlin. ''If it had been my decision alone, you would have been banned from the competition. At least you won't have my daughter with you when you crash your flying machine. Good luck.''

It was to be expected, that Morgana had to be contrary after Uther's little speech, but when she stepped up to Merlin and planted a very affectionate kiss on his cheek, Arthur's mood only soured further.

Then it was time for the pilots to climb into their flying machines. The motors were running, and the crowd was watching with bated breath as the first pilot, Elyan Yamamoto, was announced. The Japanese took off in a perfect start, his aircraft rising higher and higher, only to suddenly dip back down and ram its nose into the muddy earth.

Gasps and shouts followed the crash and people were running towards the wreckage. Arthur stood up in his seat, staring in astonished shock at the destroyed flying machine. Thankfully it had not yet reached its altitude before the crash, and Elyan had not been injured beyond some bruises, but Arthur still wondered what could have possibly caused this incident.

He didn't have time to wonder for too long though because, after Gwaine had taken off without any problems, it was his turn. The Excalibur started down the field and then lifted off as if the force of gravity had no hold on her at all. Together they sailed into the blue sky, and then South and westwards towards Dover, their first destination.

It was another perfect day, no cloud as far as one could see and the air cool up here. Down below the world had shrunk to nothing more than a canvas of greens and browns and yellows. Up in the air though, Arthur had company. A little further to his left he could see the Bléridot of Gwaine Dubois, the German was a little ahead of them and behind him and to his right Arthur could now see the familiar Curtiss, Merlin not much more than a dark speck with a blaze of red around his neck.

Narrowing his eyes in a frown, Arthur stared, wondering why he had a feeling that something was off about Merlin's aircraft. Then he saw it. There was a wheel missing from Merlin's undercarriage. Steering further to the right to get closer to Merlin, Arthur could see that the rest of the skate was intact, it looked like the wheel simply had come off, which was rather strange. Arthur was sure Merlin wouldn't have left a loose screw unattended before the race.

Shouting wasn't much use because his voice was drowned out by the noise of the machines, so Arthur waved his arm wildly to get Merlin's attention. When he finally looked up, Arthur pointed at the undercarriage. It took Merlin a few moments, but then he looked down and realised the problem. Arthur could almost see his startled gasp, but Merlin only gave him a thumbs up and then readjusted his goggles.

For a moment Arthur was taken aback about Merlin's lack of further reaction; on the other hand there was not much to be done. The missing wheel would only become a problem upon landing, and that was something Merlin wouldn't have to worry about before they reached Dover. Arthur still felt agitated. With only one wheel Merlin could crash his plane during the landing. There was a myriad of things that could happen, none of them good. Merlin could be injured or not be able to continue the race, and somehow both these outcomes were unacceptable to Arthur.

Trying to remind himself that, not only wasn't it in his hand, but that he had his own objective to win this race, Arthur turned back to the Excalibur, looking down to see whether he was still following the rails that marked the route.

There was not much to do apart from keeping his eyes at the tracks, the horizon and his compass though, and Arthur couldn't help but contemplate the unlikelihood of two flying machines getting damaged in such a rather mysterious way.

~*~

Merlin cursed. He wouldn't even have realised that he'd lost a wheel, if Arthur had not pointed it out. Never mind that losing it in itself should have been impossible, how could he not have noticed such a thing? Merlin was aware that this, probably better than anything, showed that he wasn't himself, wasn't in control. Maybe he had never been around Arthur, but it was something he couldn't afford if he wanted to win this race.

He had to stop thinking of that stupid jerk and concentrate on winning because – contrary to all these rich men - for Merlin this wasn't just about vanity and pride. For Merlin this was about survival, just like it had been ever since he'd been orphaned at the age of fourteen, had lost his mother's farm and had to find his own way in the world.

It had not been easy to get by back then, to try and find work on other farms when you were all but a skinny lad, not yet through your final growth spurt. There had always been people who tried to take advantage of Merlin's perceived vulnerability. Some people would be gracious only to imply, or sometimes point out rather forcefully, that what Merlin owed them was a special kind of gratitude. It still made Merlin's stomach turn to think of it, and the fact that _Arthur_ had assumed Merlin would be willing to _pay_ him back with such coin... Merlin briefly closed his eyes as the feelings of anger and hurt and humiliation threatened to overwhelm him again.

Merlin had never got anything for free, but that didn't mean he had sold his pride.

Arthur Pendragon's world, with his manors and tailored suits and champagne, was so far removed from Merlin's reality that he had no idea why he even had ventured in there. Only that wasn't entirely true. Arthur had been alluring and surprising and so damn fucking attractive. And he had made it seem so easy to brave the barrier between an American hayseed and a fine English Lord when nothing about Arthur seemed to fit with the image Merlin had always had of aristocracy. Even though he was an arrogant bastard, Arthur insults had not seemed derogative but instead made Merlin feel equal, even respected.

And then Merlin had made the mistake to see Arthur's lack of elitism as a sign of friendship, maybe even the possibility for more. He'd been too forward, had wanted more when it wasn't offered and had offered something himself that Arthur had no interest in.

After that misguided, stupid kiss, Merlin had felt so mortified that he'd never want to see _His Lordship_ again – which of course proved inevitable anyway. But to his utter shame, his eyes kept finding Arthur everywhere on their own volition. On his way crossing the airfield, in the café, even up in the air Merlin's gaze was drawn to that golden shock of hair, that bright blue eyes and strong features. It seemed that neither his heart nor his cock had got the message. Or Merlin was just a glutton for punishment.

And now Arthur had done it again. Instead of doing Merlin the favour of showing some consistency in behaving like an asshat, he had once more helped Merlin even though it would only be to his disadvantage. What, was he hoping for some more of Merlin's gratitude?

Merlin cast a guilty glance to his left where Arthur's aircraft was hanging in the air. He had to admit it was a beautiful sight. The flying machine. Merlin couldn't care less about Arthur and his stupid, shining hair.

When the coast of Dover approached at the horizon in the afternoon Merlin started to become a little worried. He kept looking down at where the wheel was missing, wondering how the hell he would get the Kilgharrah down without damaging the aircraft beyond repair. He would have to try and come in as slowly as possible and on a very shallow angle. If he was too fast, if he overbalanced, he could break not only part of the undercarriage but even damage one of the wings. Then the race would be over for Merlin.

Cursing, his luck or his lack of attention – it really didn't matter at this point – Merlin brought the Kilgharrah down, his eyes on the field where Gwaine and Arthur had already landed. He bit his lip and let it all go away. Arthur, the race, the debts and the future – nothing of that mattered now. This was just about him and the Kilgharrah, gliding on the air rushing under its wings, like a great dragon, its claws reaching out for the ground. Once more the flying machine felt to him like a huge, breathing beast, injured maybe but not defeated.

They stumbled when they touched down, reeling and turning sideways, but they came to a stand still upright, the wings spread undamaged.

That was the good news. When Merlin climbed down from his seat he could see what were the bad ones. The undercarriage was pretty much a mess.

''That doesn't look good,'' someone pointed out rather unhelpfully behind his back, and Merlin turned, studying what looked like one of the officials, a man with a grey beard and a topper.

Merlin tried not to glare. ''Do you think there is somewhere around here where I could get some spare parts?'' he asked instead, but apparently the man had not listened

''It's a shame that you are out of the race now, sir.''

Now Merlin did glare. ''What makes you say that?''

The man looked taken aback. ''Well, the repairs would take you at least the whole night.''

Merlin stood up from his crouch under the Kilgharrah and looked down at the man with raised eyebrows. ''Is there a rule that forbids the participants to work the whole night?''

The man hesitated. ''No...''

''Well, then I don't see what the problem is.''

 

_~ I'm Sorry ~_

Evening turned into night and all the other pilots were off to drink and dance and celebrate the successful first leg of the race. Merlin on the other hand was crouched under the Kilgharrah, cursing. The damage looked far more extensive than his first glance after landing had implied. He would be hard pressed to get this done, even if he worked all through the night. He wished Will was there. Even if he didn't understand much about aircrafts, he could take instructions, and at least his prattling and grumbling would have kept Merlin awake. But Will had taken the opportunity to travel to Paris so he could be there when Merlin arrived – _if_ he arrived. Because, looking at the Kilgharrah, Merlin wasn't too sure anymore whether that was going to happen.

He'd been working for nearly an hour in the silence of the barrack, when the door was quietly pushed open. Turning around, Merlin saw Arthur slip inside. It was dark in the shed, the only source of light an oil lamp Merlin had put on the floor next to the undercarriage, and it left Arthur's face hidden in the shadows and unreadable. His posture spoke of uncertainty though.

''What do you want here, Arthur?'' Merlin asked, feeling tired and bitter. ''Came to gloat?''

Arthur huffed, stepping into the golden pool of light.

''Don't be an idiot Merlin,'' he said impatiently, and grabbed a tool from the work table. He came over and knelt down on the other side of the Kilgharrah's broken skate as if it was the most natural thing to do.

Merlin halted. Unsure what to make of Arthur's behaviour, he eyed the blond man with a suspicious frown.

''No, honestly,'' he said, putting emphasis behind every word. ''What are you doing, Arthur?''

''I'm here to help you.''

''Help me?'' Merlin laughed. ''And why would you do that?''

''Because there's no way you will get this done on your own till morning,'' Arthur snapped, and then simply started to loosen a screw of the old wheel suspension.

Merlin stared at him. That had been no answer at all, but apparently that was all Arthur was going to give him and Merlin felt reluctant to look a gift horse in the mouth. Since Arthur kept stubbornly silent, his whole attention on the repair he was conducting, Merlin picked up where he had left and went to work as well.

''Is this your way of apologizing?'' Merlin asked after they had worked in silence for a while.

''I don't like to apologize.''

Merlin snorted. But Arthur continued as if he had not heard. ''But I guess you might say so.'' Arthur looked up at him then. ''I'm sorry,'' he told Merlin, his face serious and a little pained. ''I didn't mean to offend you I just...''

''What?''

Arthur grimaced and looked away. ''I needed to know that you- that you really wanted...''

It was painfully obvious to Merlin in that moment that Arthur had never spoken to any other man that way. That he had never sought the company Merlin had been seeking, that he might not even have known about himself until recently.

A smile blossomed on Merlin's face then, hesitant at first but growing brighter and more assured.

''I did.''

''Oh.'' The blush on Arthur's cheeks was adorable as he ducked his head.

''From the first time I met you really,'' Merlin clarified, ''and you opened your mouth and spouted all those insults in your posh British voice.''

He was watching Arthur, who was looking at him through his eyelashes, with fond amusement. This was a new Arthur, completely different from the arrogant, confident and even smug jerk Merlin had got to know in the last weeks.

''I have to admit I might be guilty of the same thing,'' Arthur said sheepishly. ''And I think I was incredibly jealous when I thought you were attracted to my sister.''

Merlin raised his eyebrows. ''You think?''

''I'm... I've never... I have not allowed myself to even look. Not before you. And it was never a problem. But I couldn't get you out of my head, and the thought of you and Morgana-''

Arthur scowled, his hands balling into fists. Oh, he was jealous alright and Merlin's heart went out to him and his poor, stupidly repressed self.

''If it's any consideration,'' he said, trying hard not to smile. ''I'm fairly sure I'm not her type. She just wanted me to take her up for a ride.''

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. ''I'm so very sorry for that. She sometimes is... She's very determined. And she doesn't always think about the consequences.''

Merlin shrugged. ''It turned out well.'' Then he added with a smile. ''You took care of that.''

''My father was unreasonable.''

''Not completely.''

''He knew it had been Morgana's idea, and it's not as if it's your job to keep her in line for him.''

''I knew he had forbidden her to fly. I took her anyway.''

Arthur frowned. ''Were you-... _Are_ you trying to rile me up again?''

The laugh that broke out of Merlin was loud and surprised. ''How did you know?''

''You're not very subtle,'' Arthur told him with a wry smile.

Merlin pouted a little, and Arthur's eyes dropped to his mouth. ''Not subtle at all.''

Merlin licked his lips. ''Yeah?''

''Your mouth,'' Arthur said with an audible swallow. ''I've been... thinking about it.''

''Did you now?''

''Yeah... about kissing it and... about other things you might do with it.''

''I've been known to do other things with it,'' Merlin whispered, locking eyes with Arthur.

The tension was suddenly thick as syrup, and heat pooled in Merlin's belly pressing down on his groin. The light of the lamp painted shadows on Arthur's face, emphasising his cheekbones, his nose and his strong chin. He looked like everything Merlin had ever wanted, but it was the look in his eyes - questioning, hopeful, longing – that really captivated him, pulled him in until Merlin felt like he might drown in the sea blue of Arthur's eyes.

''I can show you,'' Merlin said hoarsely. ''If you want.''

Arthur nodded. The ' _yes'_ a whisper on a breath.

Merlin had never been shy about his body. Growing up on a farm, where you washed at a trough outside and went bathing in the near by pond, where everyone was shirtless in the height of summer bringing in the harvest, didn't lend itself to modesty. Merlin stood. The oil lamp at his feet illuminated him from below when he stepped back on the tarpaulin of the Kilgharrah that was spread out on the floor.

Watching Arthur with just a hint of challenge in his eyes, Merlin took off his shirt. His trousers had the tendency to ride low on his hips, just barely held there by his belt. He toed off his boots and socks and then put his hands on his belt buckle. He felt his mouth curl from the small smile he gave Arthur.

''What? Aren't you going to reciprocate?''

Arthur, who had been staring at him with wide eyes, seemed almost a bit taken aback. ''You-... You want me to-?''

''Oh, yes.''

Arthur chuckled at Merlin's breathy sigh, and he seemed to relax a little.

''It will also make it easier,'' Merlin told him wryly. ''Unless you only want to watch.''

Arthur shook his head and got to his feet, ducking under the Kilgharrah's tail and leaving nothing between them that would disturb Merlin's view of him.

It almost hurt how beautiful Arthur was, all that strength and grace, like a tethered beast. All the more endearing was the way Arthur pulled at the buttons of his shirt with unusually clumsy fingers. When he finally managed to get them undone, his shirt parted to reveal a tight, white vest that smoothed over Arthur's broad and muscled torso. The shirt fell from his shoulders with a soft sound, and Merlin sighed longingly, his eyes moving over the strong arms and broad hands. They seemed more fitting for a blue-collar than an aristocrat.

Merlin couldn't wait any longer then. The thought of exposing himself in front of Arthur was leaving him breathless and burning with need. Merlin's eyes were glued to Arthur's when he unbuckled his belt and let his trousers fall together with his pants. He stepped out of them, unashamedly naked, and walked a few steps backwards until he could lower himself in the middle of the tarp.

~*~

All Arthur could do was stare as Merlin stretched out on the tarpaulin, completely unashamed and in all his naked glory, the dim glow of the oil lamp giving his pale skin an almost golden hue. The sight was so incredibly erotic that Arthur would have been unable to turn his eyes away from it if he'd tried.

Merlin might have been slender but there was nothing feminine about him. His shoulders were broad and the plains of his chest flat and smooth, sprinkled with a dusting of fine hair that circled around the small, round coins of his nipples. Arthur felt an urge to lick them, bite at them, worry them with his teeth until they looked red and used.

Merlin's blue eyes were dark in the lamplight, his gaze a challenge and a request at the same time, and Arthur didn't have it in him not to follow. In his heart he knew that he had wanted this with helpless desperation probably long before he had met Merlin Emrys.

Giving Merlin a quick smile, Arthur let his eyes wander further. Down the trail of black hair to the nest of curls between Merlin's spread legs from which his erection rose, full and heavy, to lie against his stomach. Arthur swallowed heavily, his breathing deep and ragged. He had never seen another man like this. Had dreamed of it, certainly, but the reality of it was so much more breath-taking. Merlin looked wanton, shameless and absolutely beautiful, and Arthur stepped forward, as if pulled by an invisible force.

Merlin reached out with one hand to him, asking him to come closer, and Arthur took it, aware that he was shaking a little when he sank down on his knees next to him.

''What... what do you want me to do?'' he asked uncertainly and almost overwhelmed by the sight that was Merlin.

''Whatever you want,'' Merlin said with a warm smile. ''Do you want to touch me? Or would you like me to demonstrate the things my mouth can do? For a full presentation you would have to lose your pants though.''

Arthur chuckled. ''Both, I guess? I... would like to see what your mouth can do, but I also want to touch you.''

''Good answer. Why don't we start with something simple? Something we already have some experience with?''

Merlin pushed himself up on one hand, and wrapped the other around Arthur's neck, pulling him forward until their lips softly pressed against each other. Kissing Merlin like this, when he knew it was going to happen and could prepare for it, if only barely, was so much easier. Arthur relaxed into the sweet pull of tasting Merlin, exploring the texture of another man's lips and, when he parted them, the cavern of Merlin's mouth. It was hot and lewd and tender and it made Arthur's head spin.

Merlin pushed himself further up, changing the angle of the kiss while his other hand took hold of Arthur's wrist.

''If you want to...'' he whispered, his breath warm against Arthur's lips, and then he guided Arthur's hand to his hip and Arthur was touching Merlin, his skin warm and smoother than he would have expected, the reality of it intoxicating.

Arthur sighed into Merlin's mouth and his hand developed a mind of its own, stroking up to Merlin's ribcage. His fingertips found the nipples that had enticed him so before, and he rubbed over them in a caress that felt even more intimate than kissing Merlin. When the other man moaned, a bolt of lust went right to Arthur's groin and his cock became so impossibly hard it was almost painful.

''Merlin,'' he whispered, desperate and pleading.

''Shhhh, I know. Let me take care of you.''

Merlin got up on his knees and started to pull down Arthur's trousers, as well as his undergarments, until Arthur was finally standing in front of him, completely naked, on the tarp. He felt a bit self-conscious but also very aroused. The anticipation of what Merlin would do... what he was surely contemplating with his face so close to Arthur's groin.

''You're gorgeous, you know that?'' Merlin asked, licking his lips and rubbing his long, graceful hands up and down Arthur's thighs. ''All this strength. Everything about you is broad and bold. Even your cock.''

Arthur choked a little at that, but then Merlin gripped him by the root and opened that sinful mouth and for a second or two Arthur had to close his eyes as the wet heat engulfed the head of his cock. When he opened them again, Merlin was staring up at him with his innocent blue eyes while his cheeks hollowed around Arthur's erection. Arthur leaned forward, gripping Merlin's shoulder as lust and pleasure shot through him until he felt he would burst.

''Merlin-''

Merlin drew back with an obscene slurping sound, pressing his cheek against Arthur's glistening cock. ''Liking the things my mouth can do, yet?'' he asked Arthur with a cheeky grin.

Arthur nodded. ''Yes,'' he whispered. ''I just don't want to... not yet. Not before...''

He felt stupid for not having the words, but they still sounded so crude to him. _I want to suck on your cock before I come in your mouth_ just wasn't something Arthur could bring himself to say yet.

But he did want that, and Merlin seemed to understand, because he scrambled backwards, making room for Arthur. He looked at him with surprise and something akin to awe in his eyes.

''You sure?'' he asked quietly.

Arthur nodded, sinking down between Merlin's spread thighs: He reached out, with his hand shaking a little, to touch the hard flesh of Merlin's cock, wrapping his fingers around the smooth column and dragging them up to where a drop of fluid was already building at the tip of it. He wanted to taste it but he didn't know if Merlin would think that weird. So he just bent forward, inhaling the musky scent of Merlin. Nothing sweet and flowery there, just the heady, slightly bitter scent of man, of clean sweat and a hint of simple soap.

He lets his lips trail along the rigid shaft and Merlin moaned, head thrown back in the most beautiful display of wanton pleasure Arthur had ever seen or imagined. Letting his tongue join in, he licked and sucked at Merlin's cock, trying to elicit more of the breathless, guttural sounds from him.

Merlin reached for somekind of jar next to the undercarriage, and Arthur frowned before he realised what it was: petroleum jelly. Entranced, Arthur watched as Merlin opened the jar and drew his fingers through the substance. Then he hoisted up his legs by reaching under his knees and slowly let his hands drift down where his thighs met his arse, canting his hips forward and exposing himself even more.

Arthur stared at Merlin's pale, round cheeks, the cleft between them and the small furl of his hole, forbidden and oh so tempting. And then Merlin spread himself, two long fingers starting to rub at his entrance, smearing it with the glistening substance and pushing ever so slightly, opening himself up under Arthur's eyes. Arthur nearly came from that sight alone.

''Please, let me...,'' he whispered.

Arthur had no words, only all-consuming desire and want and greed. Merlin's hand reached for his, where it hesitantly lay on Merlin's raised knee, and pulled it down, pressing it against this place of secret, forbidden pleasure. The heel of Arthur's hand brushed against Merlin's balls as his fingers gingerly rubbed over the contracting muscles, as if Merlin's hole was just asking to be filled. Feeling bold, Arthur pressed down with one finger, pushing into the tight heat.

Merlin moaned, loud and lost and not holding back the slightest but rocking against Arthur's hand and fucking himself on that finger.

''Put in one more,'' he hissed, too far gone to be eloquent any longer, and Arthur complied.

He stared at his thick fingers going in and out of Merlin's hole, a sight that should have been appalling but instead filled Arthur up with joy and pride and so much lust he had to force himself to take slow, calming breaths.

''Now, Arthur,'' Merlin whispered just then. ''Now you.''

Arthur's heart missed a beat and he looked up at Merlin's face in shock. ''You want me to-?''

''Fuck me, yes. Please, Arthur, oh god I don't think I can take this much longer.'' He spread his legs even further, his body a lewd display but so incredibly beautiful. ''Fuck me, Arthur!''

Arthur gripped the base of his own cock hard, afraid he would spend himself right there and then, all over Merlin's thighs and belly. Merlin wriggled a little, his expression impatient but fond.

''Come oooon!'' he whined.

Arthur shook himself a little. Then, with his heart beating like mad, he pulled out his fingers and lined up his erection.

''You'll tell me if I hurt you... yeah?''

Merlin just nodded, hands reaching for Arthur to pull him closer, as if he was trying to pull him inside himself. Arthur's cock nudged at Merlin's entrance. Then, grabbing Merlin by the hips to steady him, Arthur pushed a little, hesitant still, but the tight heat greeting him soon became too wonderful to hold back any longer. With a groan he thrust a bit more forcefully, sinking into Merlin until he was buried to the root.

A burning pleasure engulfed him and for a moment Arthur honestly thought he had lost his mind. When he regained his senses his eyes jumped to Merlin's, looking at him questioning and apologetic.

''I'm sorry... I couldn't... you are so _tight_ , and... god, so bloody _good._ ''

''You're a bit of an idiot,'' Merlin panted. ''Thankfully you're nice to look at.''

When Arthur frowned at him, Merlin rolled his eyes. ''Move damnit!'' he said exasperated, and Arthur grinned back, finding his smug arrogance again.

''You can't order me around like that, Merlin. Don't you know who I am?''

He enunciated the question with a small thrust, not much more than a tease.

''The biggest jerk to have ever lived, that's who you are!'' Merlin growled, laughing at the same time. '' _Move_ , you bastard!''

And then Arthur did. Carefully at first, until he found a rhythm that suited them both, and then more steady, long thrusts that made Merlin roll his head back and forth on the floor, his hands gripping the tarpaulin until his knuckles turned white.

''Yes, yes, like this, just like this, there, there...'' he mumbled half incoherent, and Arthur felt his balls draw up.

He knew he would not be able to go on for much longer, the sight and feel of Merlin before and around him was just too much. Arthur gripped Merlin's cock then, stroking it along with his thrusts into Merlin's hole. He was almost taken by surprise when there were spurts of white, milky fluid a moment later, and he fucked Merlin a little harder, abandoning his doubts and caution and all restrain.

He came with a shout that ripped at his lungs and maybe just a little bit at his soul, shuddering as he clutched Merlin's knees for support and some sort of tether in this world. He felt dizzy, almost choking on his own breath and trying to get back his bearing. When he did, he realised there was something wet on his face, and he didn't ask twice when Merlin stretched out his arms to him, but laid his head on Merlin's chest, holding on to him and closing his eyes against the tears.

~*~

Merlin wished they would have been able to just stay like that all night. Entwined and pressed against each other, while their hands lazily explored all the secret spots, the nooks and crannies. Kissing seemed to have become a favourite of Arthur's pretty quickly and Merlin didn't complain.

''You're not too bad with your mouth either,'' he said with a smile, sighing a little when Arthur chuckled against the sensitive skin of his neck. ''And I wish I could find out more about it, I really do, but if I don't get back to work on that skate now, I'll be doomed tomorrow.''

''True.''

Merlin frowned at him. ''Is this your secret, nefarious plan? To distract me with your body so I will forget about my aircraft and you can win the race?''

Arthur grinned at him. ''For one thing, I could have had that a lot easier, actually you took care of that yourself. And secondly, never in a million years will you win that race, not as long as me and the Excalibur are your competition.''

Merlin huffed. ''Well, we're gonna see about it tomorrow, won't we?''

''Only if you stop touching my arse and get back to the Kilgharrah's nether regions instead.''

''Fine, fine...''

Merlin got up then, grumbling a little under his breath as he sought out his clothes, dressing himself. Arthur watched him from his place on the tarpaulin with open amusement.

''What? Are you going to watch me work sitting there in all your naked glory? Or are you going to do what you _said_ you would and grab a tool to help me?''

Arthur cocked his head as if he had to think about it, and Merlin threw his pants at him. Laughing, Arthur got up and put them on, eyes searching the floor for the rest of his clothes.

''So bossy, Merlin. One could almost think you're the Lord here.''

Merlin rolled his eyes at him but didn't comment further, turning away to pick up the spanner he had discarded before. Before he could crouch down though, a strong hand wrapped around his wrist, and he was pulled back against a broad chest.

''If I'm going to beat you, I want to do it fair and square.'' Arthur whispered, nuzzling his ear. And then his voice turned worried when he continued. ''To be honest, I don't think you losing a wheel was an accident.''

Merlin frowned. ''You think someone sabotaged my flying machine.''

''I for one can think of someone who's nursing a grudge against you.''

Merlin turned his head to glance over his shoulder at Arthur. ''Valiant? But he's rich... he doesn't need to win that badly.''

Arthur laughed, but he didn't sound amused. ''Oh Merlin, believe me, there are a lot of other reasons people want to win that race.''

Merlin turned around then, studying Arthur until he started to fidget.

''What?''

''What's your reason then?''

Arthur shrugged. ''I guess I just want to show people that I'm a good pilot. That the Excalibur is a good aircraft. I wish-...'' He sighed.

''You wish?''

''If I could choose, I'd build aircrafts. Better ones. Faster, and able to carry more weight. It could revolutionise the way people travel, transport, everything...''

He trailed off then, but Merlin saw the light of passion and determination in his eyes. This was Arthur's dream. Apparently Merlin really still had a lot to learn about him.

''Then why don't you?''

''My father doesn't approve.''

''And you can't do something of which your father doesn't approve?''

''If I win the race... maybe then I can.''

''I need to win this race or I'll loose everything I have, and that's not much to begin with.''

''That leaves us in a bit of a bind then.''

Arthur looked at Merlin uncertainly, obviously torn, and Merlin was a little shocked at the warm, aching feeling that settled in his chest.

''I guess we'll just have to see who's the better man,'' Merlin whispered, stepping forward to press another soft kiss to Arthur's lips. It was meant as a reassurance, only he wasn't quite certain if it was Arthur or himself who needed it the most.

 

~ _Shooting Birdmen_ ~

 

The next day the pilots took off with less fanfare. Of the twelve that had originally been in the race, only eight remained. But their hardest competition – Gwaine and Valiant – had reached Dover unscathed and with a good time. And when had Arthur started to think of him and Merlin as 'them'? Merlin was still his rival in this, and he had made it clear that he would not make it easy for Arthur. He had to be prepared to do the same.

Just because they had shared their bodies like this, just because Merlin had smiled at him and held him, didn't mean that he wanted more. If Merlin won the race he would go home as a made man. And if he didn't... well, then Merlin would lose everything and probably still go home. Arthur was not delusional enough to think that one night of pleasure and satisfaction would be enough to make Merlin turn his life upside down.

As rational as these thoughts were, they still left a bitter taste in Arthur's mouth, only sweetened a little when Merlin smiled at him on his way to the Kilgharrah and gave him a thumbs up. Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin, but when he realised that he was probably too far away to see it, he settled for a nod and a quick smile.

And then it was time. It was his turn. The final leg of the race that would prove his worth. He started the Excalibur's engine, directed the helpers to hold on to her tail, and then Arthur was rolling down the field, quickly gaining speed. The ground fell away, and he was soaring up into the sky and over the white cliffs of the coast beneath him, out into the endless blue of sea and sky. The French shoreline was hidden in the early morning mist, but it looked like it was going to be another brilliant and cloudless day.

Being up in the air, Arthur couldn't help but feel elated. He looked back over his shoulder to the receding coastline of his home country, and suddenly he felt like anything was possible. Maybe Merlin was right. Maybe he didn't need his father*s approval. He was young, and he had a good head on his shoulders. He even had some money from his mother's inheritance. He could go anywhere. Do anything. Be with who ever he wanted. If only the other one felt the same.

Hanging in a world of glittering blue, Arthur's mind wandered back to the night before. To Merlin, and how beautiful he had been. How daring and seductive and so obviously experienced. Arthur didn't know why the idea of Merlin having had other lovers, other _men_ , bothered him so much. He wasn't jealous, not if those other men were a thing of the past. But there was this nagging thought in his mind that Arthur might be no different. That as soon as the race would be over and Merlin would go home, Arthur would be one of them: a past lover half forgotten. Merlin, on the other hand, would always be the man to whom Arthur had lost his most valuable possession. Because even though it was still beating hard and a little painful in his chest, Merlin had claimed Arthur's heart, whether intentionally or by accident didn't matter.

Finally the French coast loomed ahead, people running down to the beach to wave at the approaching pilots excitedly. For a moment Arthur almost couldn't believe it. They had made it. They were the first pilots who had crossed the Channel – or well, at least six of them if Arthur counted right. He recognized Gwaine's machine a little ahead, and Merlin was a bit further to his left, close to Valiant. Two other aircrafts were behind them, still over the Channel and already losing ground, only tiny dots in the distance. After consulting his compass Arthur turned his eyes straight ahead, determined to not let himself get distracted.

It might have been an hour and a half later when Arthur caught sight of Gwaine's Bleridot going down over a hayfield. There were no outward signs that something was wrong with the aircraft, so either it was a problem with the engine, or Gwaine had simply run out of fuel. While Arthur felt just a little bit sorry for Gwaine, he couldn't help but grin. It might very well become a race between Merlin and him in the end.

He looked over to Merlin and his Kilgharrah then and frowned when he saw Merlin suddenly dive, pulling his aircraft into a tight turn to the left. Valiant's plane, who had come even closer to Merlin, followed him. Something cold and heavy like lead settled in Arthur's stomach at the sight. The way Valiant went after Merlin looked like a hunter going after his prey, and Arthur had had too many a confrontation with Valiant to think that it could end anything but badly for Merlin.

Cursing, Arthur steered the Excalibur into a right-hand bend, closing the distance to the two strangely behaving flying machines. Then, when he was about another half mile from them, Arthur saw it. For a moment an object in Valiant's hand flared up in the sunlight and, a second later, Arthur heard the shot.

Valiant was shooting at Merlin.

Arthur's blood ran cold. That bastard was trying to shoot Merlin out of the sky, and he probably didn't care one bit whether he hit Merlin himself or an essential part of his flying machine. Arthur didn't either, since both were likely to get Merlin killed.

Willing the Excalibur to fly faster, Arthur frantically searched his brain for anything he could do to help Merlin. He didn't have his pistol, obviously, because why would he take that on an air race? He had a box of tools, his goggles, a map and his compass. Nothing that would help him fight off a man with a gun. But he couldn't do nothing.

Merlin was trying more and more desperately to shake Valiant, diving and turning, but to no avail. The Kilgharrah simply wasn't fast enough. At least Valiant seemed too focussed on Merlin to realise that Arthur was on his way towards them. To preserve the surprise effect, Arthur pulled the Excalibur a little further up, trying to come at Valiant form above while also keeping in his back. When there were two more shots, Arthur bore down on Valiant's aircraft. Reducing the speed a little, Arthur brought the nose of his aircraft down, and scraped the undercarriage over Valiant's top deck.

It was a risky manoeuvre, but the only thing Arthur had been able to come up with. The Excalibur itself was his only weapon. The collision made the aircraft reel sideways but Arthur managed to catch her and fly a wide turn, trying to survey the situation.

Valiant had been thrown off course by the surprise attack and had lost his pursuit of the Kilgharrah, giving Merlin the opportunity to get back to a proper altitude and control his flying machine. Arthur shook his head when Merlin came closer. He had no idea why he didn't just flee, and he tried to signal him that he should do so. Of course, Merlin only stubbornly shook his head. He pointed at Arthur and then at himself, then brought his closed fists together.

Arthur sighed in exasperation. Valiant was already coming back towards them and Arthur had no idea how much ammunition the man had. He pointed down, hoping Merlin would understand what he meant. Their only chance to shake him would be flying close to the ground, trying to put some coverage between them. Right now, though, there wasn't much but fields, only further to the south Arthur could make out trees, houses and a church. He waved for Merlin to follow him and dived down.

Merlin followed. So did Valiant.

When the first bullet flew past his ear, Arthur realised that this might not have been his most glorious idea. While Merlin was covered a little by the deck of his Curtiss Arthur was completely exposed in his own flying machine, presenting an easy target for Valiant

Merlin signalled for him to get below him and the Kilgharrah, and now it was Arthur who stubbornly shook his head. He didn't want to take cover behind Merlin, thereby making him Valiant's only target. Merlin pulled off his goggles and Arthur could see, even from the distance, that he was being glared at. Merlin pointed down sharply, and Arthur grimaced.

And then something hit him. It was as if someone had punched him with a glowing hot coal, setting Arthur's whole shoulder on fire. He slumped forward, falling on to the stick, and the Excalibur reacted immediately, going down in a nosedive towards the ground.

Panting and gritting his teeth against the pain, Arthur opened his eyes and saw the stubble field rushing towards him. Almost too late, he realised what was happening and pulled the stick back with all his might, trying to get the nose back up. The Excalibur shuddered. The field was coming closer, and closer still, and then, when he was sure he could have counted the stalks with his naked eye, it fell away as the Excalibur gained altitude again.

With shaking hands, Arthur touched his shoulder. It came away smeared with bright red blood, and Arthur stared at it dumbly for a second or two. His brain told him that he'd been shot, but the pain had already reduced to a slow kind of throbbing and his whole left side felt almost numb. Arthur was aware that it was probably the shock and adrenaline, and that he couldn't trust that to carry him all the way to Paris. But he couldn't abandon Merlin either, who was now flying above him , looking down and gesticulating wildly. Arthur gave him a weak smile and a thumbs up and then pointed at a river ahead, lined with tall trees.

Another bullet whizzed by before they could reach it, and Arthur just thanked his lucky stars that Valiant took quite some time to reload and wasn't the best shot, especially when both him and his target were moving.

When they reached the river, Arthur pulled away from Merlin and the Kiigharrah, thinking it was probably best if they forced Valiant to go after one of them, while the other was left alone. It was a solid plan, and if Arthur knew Valiant quite well, knew that he would always choose the easier target, Merlin would be none the wiser.

As Arthur had predicted, Valiant went after him. He tried to take sharp turns between the trees, diving in and out of them to keep Valiant from getting a good shot at him. It was becoming more difficult to concentrate though, and another bullet hit the Excalibur, making her swerve and nearly hit the crown of a poplar.

Turning back to throw a glance over his shoulder, Arthur suddenly saw the Kilgharrah approach, it almost tackled Valiant's aircraft, its skate catching the outer sprouts before Merlin pulled up sharply again. Valiant's machine veered to the side, one wing catching in the tree branches. Thrown out of balance and missing a few sprouts, the aircraft lurched forward nose first, ramming itself into the ground before it toppled over and splashed into the river.

With his heart beating wildly, Arthur pulled the Excalibur up and circled high above the wreckage. He didn't see Valiant, but right now he couldn't make himself care. He was hardly able to believe they had escaped.

Merlin came up to his right side then, looking ruffled but smiling with relief and signalling for Arthur to come with him. Not questioning the direction, Arthur followed.

 

_~ Bleeding Out ~_

They flew towards the sun. Close to each other, which made Arthur feel warm inside and then question his sanity again. This might still be a race, but somehow that didn't seem all that important anymore. It had become something bigger, something overwhelming that made Arthur dizzy. Looking over at Merlin, whole and windswept and concentrated, Arthur knew it would be fine. Everything would be fine.

There were houses under them now, more and more houses, a city growing bigger. And then the iron tower that had become its landmark became visible in the afternoon sun.

Paris.

Arthur smiled. They had made it. Merlin and him. Together. He should be able to sleep a little now. His eyes were already drooping, his fingers growing lax, when there was suddenly a loud bang and Arthur jumped, his eyes flying open and his hand gripping the stick so forcefully that the Excalibur lurched.

Bloody hell.

There was thick black smoke coming from the front of the aircraft, which meant the engine was a goner. Arthur swallowed, trying to blink against the wooziness. He looked over at Merlin, seeing that he was gesticulating again, but Arthur was not sure what he was saying. He looked down, but there were only pretty narrow streets and tree-lined avenues and when the engine started stuttering Arthur realised he simply didn't have time to find a safe landing place. With a cold dread filling him, Arthur tried to steer the Excalibur towards the river. If he crashed his aircraft onto a busy street he'd probably not only kill himself but a few passers-by as well. Taking that risk was not an option.

Merlin was waving frantically at him, and Arthur looked at him for a second longer before he raised his hand, braving a smile. Merlin scowled and shouted something that got lost in the noise, but then the Kilgharrah suddenly fell back a little.

Arthur threw a quick look over his shoulder. What was Merlin planning? His eyes widened when Merlin steered his aircraft right on top of the tumbling, rocking Excalibur. His face was a mask of fear and determination and he sharply pointed at the one remaining skate of the Kilgharrah that was dancing above Arthur's head.

Arthur swallowed. He looked ahead. The river was getting closer, the Excalibur on collision course. Looking up into Merlin's pleading blue eyes above him, Arthur nodded and reached up. But the skate remained out of reach. The Excalibur stumbled and stuttered, her dive getting steeper, and Arthur had to catch himself at the windscreen, nearly tumbling over.

This time he heard the shout of, ''Arthur!''

And then, for a second or two, the skate was right there and Arthur grabbed it, trying to hold on with his right arm mostly, and managed to swing a leg over the plank. For a moment he hung there, in the air, his muscles straining and the world turning around him.

''Oh god, hold on, Arthur! Do you hear me!?''

Arthur did. He just wasn't sure that he could do what Merlin was asking him to.

From the corner of his eyes he caught sight of the Excalibur, swallowing as he watched her go down trailing smoke behind her. She'd been his pride and joy. His dream, really, of a freedom he had only ever been able to find when he'd been flying her. The aircraft hit the surface of the river below with a huge splash. Then she was gone. Arthur looked up at Merlin, who kept staring down at him and pleading with him and Arthur wanted to comply, he really did, if only so that Merlin would stop looking as if someone was shredding his insides with a blunt knife.

Arthur tried, once, twice, and at his third try managed to pull himself up so he was sitting on the skate. He nearly would have tumbled down backwards again when the exhaustion and probably the blood loss from his shoulder wound made his head spin again, but he managed to hold on to the brace of the undercarriage before him. Realising that he didn't know how long he could keep this up, Arthur carefully unbuckled his belt and wrapped the ends around the brace, just managing to buckle it up again in the last hole on the other side. Hopefully this would keep him from falling should he lose his grip.

As they flew on, the city below became a sea of blurred colours. All Arthur could see was Merlin's face above him. The bright smile and the fear still lingering in his eyes. Arthur rested his forehead against the Kilgharrah and closed his eyes.

 

_~ Carry Me Home ~_

 

Merlin wiped at his tearing eyes and pulled the goggles back on. He had seen that Arthur had had the presence of mind to tie himself up to the undercarriage but Merlin was still worried. He could see that Arthur was bleeding, and his lack of responsiveness was alarming. Thankfully their landing place for the race wasn't far ahead because Merlin knew they were about to run out of fuel sooner or later.

Frowning he stared at a small black dot in the sky ahead, but with time he was able to make out that it was another flying machine. With all the mortal peril and daredevil escapes Merlin had nearly forgotten that there were others still in the race. The airfield that was the finishing line was looming ahead now, and Merlin began to make out the tents and colourful streamers, and the crowd of people milling about. The aircraft ahead looked to be Gwaine Dubois and his Bléridot, and Merlin suddenly realised that after all they'd been through, after all they had overcome, he and Arthur would _both_ loose the race. It should have felt more devastating, but right now all Merlin wanted was to make it down in one piece and for Arthur... Merlin swallowed, looking down at where Arthur was hanging on to the undercarriage, his eyes closed and his face slack. He just wanted Arthur to be alive.

He saw Gwaine touch down and people streaming towards him and his flying machine, applauding and cheering. He knew his own landing would be difficult again and he tried to find the best spot where he didn't risk crashing into anything should the Kilgharrah prove impossible to control. Arthur would have to jump before he touched down as well, if he didn't want to risk severe injury. There was no use in stalling though, better to save the rest of the fuel if he had to abort his first try.

''Arthur!'' he shouted, looking down towards the other man, hopefully. ''Arthur!!''

But Arthur didn't move or answer.

Cold fear clawed at Merlin's insides and he pulled the Kilgharrah up again to take another round around the airfield. He could see people pointing up to them, obviously having seen his unusual passenger by now.

''Arthur, come on! You have to wake up. Please!''

Finally Arthur's blond head came up, and he blinked at Merlin dazedly. Merlin pointed down.

''We're at the landing site. But you have to jump before I touch down!'' Merlin yelled, hoping Arthur would hear him.

Arthur glanced down towards the ground and then back to Merlin, giving him a thumbs up and a stiff smile. Merlin pointed at his own belt, signalling that Arthur had to unbuckle himself, and Arthur nodded his acknowledgement.

Bearing down on the airfield, Merlin pushed the stick forward and brought the Kilgharrah's nose down, going for a shallow angle that would leave Arthur time enough to jump from a low height. The field came closer. Then, when there was barely half a meter between it and the undercarriage, Arthur let go, and all Merlin could see was how his body rolled away over the grass behind him. He touched down with his wheel first, trying to reduce the speed some more, but the Kilgharrah careened, turning around her own axis, and Merlin heard the undercarriage give as he came to a stop, the aircraft sloping sideways. For a moment he sat with bated breath, waiting for anything else to give out. When nothing happened, he slumped forward, his body starting to shake from the residual adrenaline and tension.

But he had to move. He had to look for Arthur. He climbed down from his seat with shaking legs, but before he could move away from his aircraft he was already surrounded by people and flashlights going off, by excited chatter and questions yelled at him. Then he was seethed and lifted, people applauding and hoisting him up, congratulating him on his journey, on coming in second. There could have been nothing further from Merlin's mind as his own achievement though. All he wanted was to see Arthur and touch him and make sure he was okay.

Merlin struggled and fought against people who kept laughing and smiling until Merlin finally pushed and shouted.

''No! Let me down! Where's Arthur? Is he alright!?''

When he was finally released, Merlin immediately tried to fight his way through the crowd of people, jumping up and calling Arthur's name, knowing very well that there would be no answer. A circle of spectators was forming ahead of him, and Merlin could see two men with a stretcher running towards it. He pushed through the rows desperately, and then he saw him. Arthur. Lying motionless on the ground.

''Arthur!? Arthur, oh my god, are you okay?''

Merlin sank down to his knees next to the other man, not even caring about the confused or questioning looks he was receiving when he took Arthur's hand. Arthur's eyes were closed, but when Merlin squeezed his fingers, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing the sky blue Merlin had gotten lost in from the moment he met him. With a shaking hand, Arthur reached up towards Merlin's cheek, fingertips gliding over the skin that Merlin had not even realised was wet with tears.

''Why are you crying?'' Arthur whispered. ''Did you not win?''

Merlin laughed through his tears and shook his head. ''Not the race no.''

''That's no reason to cry like a girl, _Mer_ lin.''

''No? I lost everything, Arthur,'' he said, smiling down through his tears at the blond jerk he had fallen in love with. ''I very nearly lost everything.''

''Don't be stupid,'' Arthur mumbled as his eyes fell shut again. ''You still have me.''

Merlin choked a little, pressing a kiss to Arthur Pendragon's hand. He was pushed back when the paramedics put the stretcher down next to Arthur, and Merlin watched as they felt for a pulse and nodded. Then Arthur was hoisted up, and Merlin was left behind as they pushed through the crowd of people, vanishing in the direction of the tents. Merlin longed for nothing else but to follow, to go and stay with Arthur, to make absolutely sure that he was alright. But the looks people gave him drove the realisation home that he was an outsider. A stranger really, who had no claim on Arthur at all.

~*~

Merlin lived through the following hour like in a daze. The music and cheering seeming to come from far, far away, the words of the speeches blurring to something meaningless and trite. He understood that Gwaine was announced as the winner of the race and there were more cheers and people waving the French flag and then other flags, and really it seemed to be a happy join in for all.

He caught sight of Morgana once, when Gwaine was presented with the prize money and a gaudy wreath of flowers, and she gave him a quick, worried smile. But before he could make his way towards her, Gwaine caught him with an arm around his shoulder, pulling him towards the edge of the podium.

''I might have won the race,'' he shouted at the crowd, waving a bottle of champagne. ''But this man is the real hero we should celebrate. You all saw what he did today. If he had not lost so much time saving the life of another, it would have probably been him who had got here first. Therefore I want to share my winnings with him. Five thousand pounds are more than enough for me.'' He grinned, but when he turned towards Merlin his eyes were serious. ''I think true courage, like Merlin Emrys has shown it, should be rewarded,'' he said, looking right at Merlin. ''So please give him a great, big round of applause!''

Gwaine clapped Merlin hard on the shoulder and the crowd went wild. Merlin could see Will somewhat to the front, pointing at him and throwing his hat in the air, shouting, ''Five thousand pounds!!'' He tried to smile, knowing it was expected of him, but all he really wanted was to find Arthur and see whether he was okay. Looking around, he tried to catch sight of Morgana or Lord Pendragon again, but they were gone.

''Do you know what happened to Arthur?'' Merlin whispered at Gwaine, who hugged him closer again and tried to press the bottle of champagne at him.

Gwaine gave him a contemplative look, but his smile only grew wider. ''I see you have your priorities straight, my friend. As far as I know, though, they took the young Lord Pendragon to a hospital immediately.''

''Do you know where that would be?''

Gwaine grinned at him devilishly. ''Not yet, but why don't I help you to find out?''

 

_~ Where Will We Go From Here? ~_

Gwaine apparently knew everybody in the city, and by the end of the day Merlin didn't only know which hospital Arthur had been brought to and in which fancy hotel the Pendragons were staying, but had also been able to send a message to Morgana via a few of Gwaine's acquaintances. He received an answer the same night; a short note to assure him that no, Arthur wasn't mortally wounded and yes, he would make a full recovery. Morgana also promised to let him know when Arthur woke up and was able to see visitors.

That had been two days ago, though, and nothing else had been forthcoming. Merlin was being eaten up with worries, and the fact that nobody understood just how essential Arthur was to him only made it worse. He suspected that Gwaine knew, though. There had been hints and somewhat sympathetic looks, and maybe just a little bit of regret lingering in Gwaine's eyes. Whatever his reasons, Gwaine had taken Merlin under his wing and had been incredibly nice and helpful, introducing him to his friends and offering to show him around the sights as a distraction. He had even invited Merlin to stay at his place but had not even batted an eye when Merlin had declined. He'd taken him to a modest hotel instead that provided anything Merlin might need.

Will, on the other hand, couldn't understand why Merlin wanted to stay in Paris and not make arrangements to go back home to Phoenix. They had a bit of a fight when Merlin offered him half of his share of the prize money – more than enough to get back home if he wanted to.

''I don't want that pompous jerk's money, you stupid ass,'' Will had shouted, and had not taken kindly to it when Merlin had pointed out that technically the money was Merlin's, so it was him Will was insulting. In the end they had made up and Will had bought himself a ticket for the next steamer back to the States, making Merlin promise he would return as soon as he had finished his business here. Merlin felt a little guilty about the promise because – when he was honest – he had no idea where he would go from here. Arizona, with its vast stretches of nothing much, didn't seem all too alluring to him anymore.

Merlin didn't know when it had happened, when his priorities had shifted in such a profound, life-altering way. Had it been when Arthur was shot? When they had shared a night full of passion and smiles and companionship? Or had his life veered off course the moment he had met the blond jerk and looked into those blue eyes that held a challenge Merlin couldn't escape? Whatever it had been, Arthur Pendragon had swept into Merlin's life like a scowling, glaring whirlwind and upended everything Merlin had ever thought his life would be like, everything he ever thought he wanted from it.

When he finally got another message from Morgana, Merlin's knees turned a little weak. Gwaine, whom he'd been having lunch with, offered to take him to the hospital, and Merlin accepted, spending the whole ride tugging nervously on his sleeve and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. The message had only asked for him to come to the hospital and not elaborated on Arthur's condition: whether he was awake, whether he had recovered or maybe even asked after Merlin.

They finally stopped in front of an imposing building, and when Merlin got out his heart was hammering so fast in his chest he was afraid he might break down right there on the pavement. Gwaine waved at him through the window and gave him a reassuring smile before he drove off, leaving Merlin with his worries and anxieties and the piece of paper on which the receptionist at the hotel had scribbled down Morgana's message. He took a deep breath and then slowly made his way up the stairs and into the entrance hall.

He immediately felt awkward and out of place in between the hushed activity of the hospital, and when he saw a young woman sitting behind a dark wooden desk, Merlin went towards her hoping this might be some kind of reception. The girl looked up at him questioningly.

''Est-ce que je peux vous aider?'' she asked with a friendly smile.

''Je voudrais... uhm... Arthur Pendragon?'' Merlin stammered nervously.

But the girl just kept smiling. ''Un moment, monsieur.''

She started to look through a large bound book, some sort of registry probably, and then scribbled something on a piece of paper.

''C'est sa chambre. C'est au deuxième étage.''

Merlin looked at the paper with the number 22 on it, and then back at the woman who pointed to his left where a broad staircase wound its way upstairs. He hoped he had gotten it right, and that she had just given him Arthur's room number. With a nod and a grateful smile Merlin turned away and made his way upstairs.

He found room number 22, but it was empty, the bed pristine and untouched. For a moment Merlin couldn't breathe, the world growing dim around him as the walls came closer. Morgana had said he was okay. This must be the wrong room. But what if-

''Monsieur Pendragon est dans le jardin,'' someone suddenly said from behind him.

Turning around he caught sight of a young woman in a nurse's uniform, holding a stack of folded blankets, her eyes curious and questioning. Merlin looked at her with an uncomprehending frown, he had no idea what she had just said, and the nurse must have realised because she pointed towards the window, and said, '' _Garden_.''

''Oh.''

Merlin's heart stuttered as a rush of relief ran through his body. Swallowing against the dryness in his throat, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

''Thank you,'' he croaked with a stupid smile. ''Merci.''

''Pas de quoi!''

But Merlin didn't even hear her parting words as he rushed out the door.

The gardens stretched out behind the hospital with sharply cut flowerbeds and hedges, fountains and gravel paths, leading to a big meadow with a little pond. That's where Merlin found him, sitting on one of the benches, the sun lighting up his hair like a halo.

Merlin stopped, unable to turn his eyes away, unable to make another step or just take a much needed breath. Arthur's skin was paler than Merlin remembered and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he was alive and right there and if Merlin reached out he would be able to touch him.

Arthur looked up then, and a small smile spread over his face.

''Merlin.''

Finally getting his legs to work again, Merlin walked up to the bench and came to stand next to it, shifting from one foot to the other.

''Hello Arthur.''

Arthur indicated for Merlin to take a seat next to him, and Merlin sank down on the bank gingerly.

''It's good to see you,'' Arthur said, studying him for a moment before he gazed back out on the pond. ''I wanted to thank you. You saved my life.''

Merlin shook his head. ''You saved my life first, when you came to help me against Valiant. Which was by the way the most idiotically heroic thing I have ever seen. You didn't even have a weapon!''

Arthur shrugged. ''I had the Excalibur.''

''You would have won the race if you just kept going!'' Merlin said with a little, disbelieving choke. ''Instead you nearly got killed.''

Arthur looked at him sideways then. ''You were in danger,'' he said quietly. ''I had to do something.''

''Why?'' Merlin breathed, his hand slowly, hesitantly creeping towards Arthur's where it rested on his thigh.

Arthur closed his eyes with a pained smile and shook his head. ''If you still don't know that, I have no idea how I could make it any clearer.''

''You could just tell me,'' Merlin said hopefully.

Arthur huffed out a laugh. ''Well, then...'' He looked up and met Merlin's eyes. ''Because I'm in love with you, Merlin Emrys, that's why. The thought of something happening to you is unacceptable to me, and I would have done anything – anything at all – to make sure that you're safe.''

It was the look in those eyes, almost cornflower blue in the sun, which broke something in Merlin's chest just to build it anew, but better and stronger. The world became a bench in a garden by a pond with a blond man who was a bit of a jerk and a bit of a hero and probably the love of Merlin's life. It was a pivotal moment. The moment Merlin realised that his whole life was going to change. And just before that was going to happen, Merlin leaned forward and kissed Arthur, light and sweet, just because he wanted to. And maybe because, while he had asked it of Arthur, he wasn't sure he had the courage to pour out his heart like that himself.

Arthur smiled at him, bright and teasing, as if he knew exactly what Merlin had not said. Then he cocked his head and looked at Merlin contemplatively.

''You know, the adventure of flying is only just starting. There's much to do and - while you're a bit of an idiot - we're a good team.''

Merlin laughed. ''You already had me at 'adventure'.''

Arthur smiled but his eyes were still uncertain. ''So... Will you stay?'' he asked, the hope so apparent in his voice that all Merlin could do for a moment was grin at him stupidly.

''If it means I get to stay with you,'' he said then, shyly taking Arthur's hand in his.

The look on Arthur's face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

''It's gonna be risky-'' Arthur started

''We live for the risk.''

''And forbidden.''

''When has that ever stopped us?''

''This might end up blowing in our face-.''

Merlin put his fingers on Arthur's lips to interrupt him.

''If it doesn't I think I've done something wrong,'' he said wryly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. A question. A challenge. A request.

Merlin sighed. ''And yes,'' he said, trying to sound grudging. ''I guess... I might love you too.''

 

 

 

_~ The End ~_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Daredevils](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016737) by [crimsonswirls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonswirls/pseuds/crimsonswirls)




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